


So Be It, I'm Your Crowbar

by the_judgmentalist



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_judgmentalist/pseuds/the_judgmentalist
Summary: Helena isn't as repressed or awkward as most people think. She knows some things, and she loves a project. So if Dinah and her sad eyes are her next project, who can blame her?Helena brings out the best in Dinah via Italian food, some drinking games, and old school teen movies.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 22
Kudos: 193





	1. You can use my skin, to bury secrets in

**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to read about a more competent, less backwards and feral Helena, and a Dinah who was the one who needed some TLC. I don't know when Dinah's mother died, but I thought perhaps it was fresher than Helena's own loss, though I do think Helena has some rage issues I've mostly ignored so far because the circumstances didn't call for that to be triggered. Maybe later. But I think we all handle or internalize or externalize trauma in very personal ways, so this was kind of born of that idea. The movie thing came from Helena's comments about bad 80s cop films. How else would she have seen them if not from her adopted family? Title from "I Know" by Fiona Apple.

The thing about putting your mind to one task for fifteen years is that you become used to it. Used to the senseless determination, the blind recklessness in endless pursuit of your goal.

The thing about fifteen years, though, is that it's a lot of time. Sometimes Helena feels like people think she's an undergrown freak, no education, not a lick of people skills. Not true. If anything, the weirdest thing about her childhood was that she was raised by three men. Not that it was in Sicily. Not that she trained to be an assassin. Not what happened to her family — well, maybe that one, that was pretty affecting. But the real novelty of it came from three grown Sicilian men trying to fit this little girl, just a preteen, into their lives. She was well looked after, though, and left their sometimes bumbling care missing the musk of their colognes, the drinks they'd slip her when they thought the others weren't looking, the way Gianni would put on his Pa's reading glasses and do his impression, the hilarious juxtaposition of a knobbled grandfather and a hardened, bloodthirsty assassin. It was more of a home than some might have thought.

But at the end of a normal day, our goals can still consume us. Helena liked to think she's good at goals. Good at putting her nose the grindstone and getting the work accomplished. So when she's left at the end of that fifteen years, at the second after she fires her crossbow into Zsasz's neck, she doesn't really have another goal. Luckily she doesn’t have to wait before her next task: a coterie of masked men and a little girl who needed help. Sure, maybe it turned out her goal was also a little less sorted than she'd have thought, what with the loose thread of Roman Sionis hanging around, but by the time they were slinging margaritas at a corner taco shop, both the short and long-term goals were wrapped up in a bloody bow. She saw her remaining weeks filled with her days as normal: training, vigilance, information seeking — but there was really no point now. What would she fill her evenings with? The cop, Montoya, had mentioned the city needing cleaned up at their little burrito cool-down party. Helena wouldn't argue with that. She had eyes, after all. Even if the cop talked like she walked out of a Lethal Weapon film (some of Sal and Pa's favorites; if she had a dollar for every time Pa said “I'm getting' too old for this shit!” in a heavy Sicilian accent, she'd have already earned back the Bertinelli fortune), Helena trusted Renee Montoya. She liked the other girls, too, though she had genuinely thought it funny when Harley Quinn drove off in Dinah's car. She always did like a wacky character, and Harley was the wackiest of them. The circumstances were hilarious; and maybe Helena was a little bruised about her own wrecked ride. She knew it was right to apologize, though, and regardless, she left the taco joint with two new contacts in her phone.

Three months later, she'd used her newfound — re-found — fortune to put up a little crimefighting joint. Her vigilance, sleuthing and training all had a purpose now, a goal. They, the Birds of Prey, specifically wanted to protect the helpless: the children, the poor, other women, vulnerable communities. Kicking ass was fun, and felt a hell of a lot less guilty if you were doing it for a good reason. It was partially inspired by Dinah's mom, a do-gooder of her own back in the day. She and Renee had put some baddies behind bars together, fought some crime. Dinah once let it slip that her mom almost blacked out at injustice, went all single-minded until she fixed it. Helena guessed that at least once, when it mattered, she wasn't able to fix it.

Dinah was an interesting figure in Helena's new life, though. Helena wouldn't say she didn't have any friends. For one, she knew Renee and Dinah, and even Harley and Cassandra, were her new friends. She could accept that. She had acquaintances in Sicily outside of her little assassin family. She even had a barber in Gotham City — a little Sicilian man whose accent was so familiar it made her tear up. She could see it made him nervous the first time she begged for a hug, but he did it anyway. That's friendship. She knows that.

But with Dinah, friendship is fun, not just a necessity or a comfort. They hang out, quote _Lethal Weapon_ and _Beverly Hills Cop_ at each other while they're punching baddies, Dinah introduces her to new movies, and Helena drags Dinah to early training sessions, then coffee. It's easy, it's exciting. And, as she said, Helena has eyes. She knows what she sees when she looks at Dinah. She's just not ready for that mission yet. It's scary.

What she is ready for, though, is her new project.

At training sessions, in between coffees and drinks and movies, Helena began to probe for the story of Dinah's life. She thinks everyone knows her own sob story; she's getting sick of hearing it echoed back at her. Harley said that vengeance rarely brings catharsis, and she was right. But vengeance paired with the thrill of a completed goal, years of enriching training and education from her little found family, a new life of do-gooding; these things didn't fix the soul, but they soothed it. Helena liked to think she'd get there someday. To catharsis.

But Dinah's wounds were newer, her mother more recently gone, and the last however many years spent with a little less love than even Helena had. Fending for herself, never able to rest until recently, and even then tormented at work, forced to remain in the employ of a handful of sociopaths. Helena wouldn't wish for it to be her life. Regardless, Dinah remained a sweet spirit, always willing to help — sometimes hellbent upon doing so, like her mom, perhaps. She had the smile of a less mischievous cheshire cat, and the singing voice of the canary it might've eaten. She was a lot of contradictions in one fanciable package. Helena found she'd do anything for her. And this is exactly what she'd decided to do: She'd finally make Dinah's life a happy one.

First, Helena decided to just be there for her, to ask after her, and care for her. When she got sick as a girl, or after days of heavy practice, Pa would bring her pasta e fagioli with creamy beans and heavy chicken stock he made from scratch, the chicken raised in their own backyard. When she was sad, Gianni would do his impressions, and when she had nightmares, Sal would watch movies with her until she fell asleep. She knew what care was. So she'd start with soup. Luckily she and Dinah lived in the same apartment. It was just easier that way, but the physical closeness of a shared space didn't always feel close enough. But Helena planned to fill their home up with the savoriest scents Dinah had ever smelled.

As Helena was straining her stock, her sieve catching the chicken, onion skins and other veggies while the juices sluiced back into the pan, Dinah came in the door. That was it. Let the caring begin.

“That smells absolutely divine,” said Dinah, tossing her keys on the table. She'd finally found another vintage sports car in her price range. Helena had offered to help her afford a new one while she was bumming rides on the back of Helena's new bike or, god forbid, the Gotham City bus. She'd tried to talk her into a big SUV “for safety,” but Dinah had insisted. “That's just my style, babe,” she had said.

“It's pasta e fagioli. I know that Olive Garden trash heap serves it but this is my Pa's recipe. Authentic as fuck. Pa is my, uh, Sicilian grandfather, you know the one,” Helena said, stirring the beans into the stock with a wooden spoon. 

“Pasta fancy goo, huh?” Dinah always annoyed her by getting Italian words wrong, or talking about how much she loved the Olive Garden, so Helena let it slide. “Sounds great. Everything you cook is great,” said Dinah, throwing herself into a kitchen chair, then popping open a new beer with a hiss. “Heard from Renee?”

“Yep. Nothing tonight.”

“Fantastic!” Dinah grinned, pumped one fist in the air. “My choice for movie night!” She gave a little cheer, then walked with an exaggerated shimmy over to the couch (a shimmy Helena definitely did not stare at), improvising a “movie night, movie niiiight” song while she flipped through Netflix.

“You always pick the movie!” Helena yelled over the din of the autoplay trailers. She was smiling, just ribbing Dinah a little.

“Well I'm not watching _Lethal Weapon 27_ again. And I know more movies than you!”

“There aren't 27 _Lethal Weapon_ movies,” Helena grumbled.

“Almost,” said Dinah, much closer this time. She'd chosen a film, fast, and was back in the kitchen. Helena glanced at her, saw over Dinah's shoulder that she'd selected a movie called _Can't Hardly Wait._ “I picked a teen classic. I doubt you've seen any of those.”

“Hey, _'Breakfast Club_ came on TV at least once in Sicily. I think I saw it.”

“Okay nerd, my bad,” said Dinah. She sat a new open beer next to Helena's elbow where she worked. Helena stuck her tongue out at her, but grabbed the beer and took a slug. Operation comfort was going well.

Helena nestled her soup on the stove to simmer, letting the beans get creamy and soak up the salty chicken stock while she and Dinah racked up beers on the couch. About halfway through the movie — Helena had already lost count of how many times the blonde girl requested her yearbook be signed — she got up and dished them both out steaming bowls of soup, hunks of crusty bread. Dinah gave a gasp of delight as Helena rounded the corner from the kitchen. They both sat around the coffee table, cross-legged, and sipped from their soup bowls, slurping up the beans and little ditalini pasta. Dinah moaned at the first five mouthfuls, at least, until Helena's cheeks were blushed pink at the sound being associated with anything she'd created. 

Later that night, after polishing off most of a 12-pack of beer and at least two shots of whiskey, Dinah lay with her head on Helena's lap on the couch while they watched yet another film, Helena's choice this time, _Groundhog Day_ , which she remembered was a favorite of her mother's. She always recalled her mom as being a woman who loved to laugh, and she would watch films and howl for hours. She could still hear it ringing in her ears at each “Ned? Ned Ryerson?” She smiled and, without thinking, dragged her fingers over the shell of Dinah's ear. She felt the shiver go through the other woman and pulled her hand away, thinking this was the opposite of comfort. But Dinah grabbed her hand and put it right back on her ear, laying her fingers in her hair.

“S'okay,” she said. “Feels nice.”

Helena just stroked her hair, curling it behind her ear over and over, until she felt Dinah's breath even out on her lap.

In pursuit of her goal, Helena had also recently made it a point to listen to Dinah more. One thing she'd noticed about Dinah in her endless observation was that she'd often demure and let others take the lead, sometimes letting them trample all over opinions she'd previously strongly defended. Helena decided to take her side whenever she could. When Renee and Dinah got in an argument about where or when to strike, Helena would always side with Dinah, even though she suspected from the lengthy, really creepy stare Renee had given her the last time, like she could see right into her soul, like she knew how and when Helena would die some day, that she knew exactly what was happening.

This was also why Dinah got to choose the film on more movie nights than Helena did. That was the real reason. Helena could make plenty of film suggestions. She had seen upwards of fifty films in her life, so it wasn't like she was an Amish woman churning butter. Helena just liked Dinah to be happy. It was something she could allow without feeling imposed upon. Simple, this comfort thing.

But the truly getting to know her part was proving a bit more difficult. While they did talk more, it felt like Helena didn't actually know much of anything substantial about Dinah and her past. Helena felt she had so much to let go of, and wished that she would be frank with her. She wanted to know everything about Dinah, so sue her. She got an idea from the teen movies Dinah insisted on showing her on movie nights. The next Saturday they all had free, she was throwing a party, and they were going to play drinking games.

The Saturday arrived, and so did Renee, with arms full of Chinese takeout, and Harley, with arms full of booze, and a sulky looking Cass behind them, Twizzler packages poking out of her backpack. “What's her deal?” Helena asked, shrugging at Cassandra while she took two bottles of cotton candy vodka — disgusting — from Harley's hands. 

“Oh, I told her you guys wouldn't let her drink. I mean, I won't either, but I don't like bein' the bad guy, y'know?”

“Did you have to bring her?” Helena asked.

“H, be nice. She can have fun without drinking. We can be good examples,” Dinah said, coming up behind Helena to grab a monster bottle of whiskey from Harley. She slid a hand around the taller girl's arm to gently move her aside, and it took everything in Helena's power not to throw the bottles of vodka clear across the yard at the touch.

Later, bellies full of lo mein and General Tso's, and a nice base coat of tequila in their guts, the ladies rounded up around the coffee table to play a few drinking games. Cass had a big glass of soda, and the rest empty shot glasses around Harley’s giant bottle of whiskey they were going to conquer. Cass had lined up some super sour candies to take in lieu of shots.

“Kings!” Harley yelled. “KINGS!”

“She means King's Cup,” said Dinah, turning to Helena. “You know it?”

“You bet your ass I do!” said an already kind of sloshed Renee.

“I had no doubt. H, do you know it?” Dinah asked. Helena shook her head. “It's cool, it's easy to learn as you go.”

Renee sat a beer can in the middle of the table while Harley pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling. Dinah poured them all little half shots of whiskey.

“Okay, the rules are simple. The card dictates the action. A discarded card goes under the tab of the beer can. Whoever pops the can has to chug it. If the card tells you to drink, you gotta drink. Can we handle that, ladies?” said Harley. They all nodded. She drew. “Two! Two is for you,” she said, pointing at Helena.

“Why me?” Helena said, aghast.

“It's chill, she's just supposed to pick one other person to drink and she chose you, probably because you're the newbie, babe,” said Dinah. Helena grimaced as she took her shot, and Dinah poured her one more. “Your turn.”

Helena pulled an eight of hearts. “Eight?”

Harley squealed. “Eight means date! Pick a date!”

Helena paled despite the whiskey in her cheeks. “A date?”

Renee piped up. “Chill it, killer. It's the person who will have to drink every time you drink. It's so more people get wasted. Like any good game.”

“Okay, well Dinah hasn't had a drink yet, so Dinah... uh, you'remydate,” Helena spilled out.

“Well, nobody but you has had a drink but we'll ignore that. Down the hatch!” Dinah tossed the shot past her grinning teeth. Helena matched her, coughing once as the shot burned down her throat. “Guess it's my turn now!” Dinah said, and drew a card. “Nine! That's...”

“Rhyme time!” Harley burst out. “Pick a word and we have to rhyme it until one of us can't, then they drink. Or eat a sour candy,” she looked over at Cassandra, already two pieces into her line of sour candies meant to be a punishment on par with their whiskey shots. “'Ey, easy on the hard stuff, ya lush,” Harley swatted at the kid.

“Okay, how about we rhyme with 'best',” said Dinah.

“Vest!” shouted Cass. “Chest!” shouted Renee. “Breast!” shouted Harley.

“Uhhh... pass?” said Helena, after she failed to produce any rhymes in her mind.

“Oh, fuck, Helena,” Dinah groaned as she poured another shot. “Fuckin' worst date of my life,” she said, but grinned and winked at Helena over her shot so she knew it wasn't serious. Helena downed her own whiskey, face hotter than a stovetop on Thanksgiving. She thought this was supposed to be a way to get Dinah to open up, but instead she was finding it harder to control her own thoughts and feelings about the golden-haired grinning sun goddess who sat in their — shared! Imagine that! — living room.

“Cass next!” said Harley.

Cassandra picked a card. “Three?”

“Three is for me, in this case, you, Cass,” said Harley.

“Fine by me!” said Cass, downing two candies just for good measure, with a soda chaser. “Your turn, Renee.”

Renee drew a ten, turned it to show the group. “Ten. Ten is...” started Dinah.

“Never have I ever?” said Harley. “That's what we usually did in high school. Just a quick one.” They all nodded in agreement. “Okay, everyone, three fingers up. We go around the circle and say something we've never done. If someone in the group has done that thing, they put a finger down. First person with three fingers drinks. I'll go first. Never have I ever been to Disney World.”

“So I just put my finger down if I have been?” said Helena. At Dinah's nod, put her ring ringer down. “Went for my ninth birthday,” she clarified. “My turn. Never have I ever, uh. Well, there's a lot I haven't done. Never have I ever gone to prom.” Renee, Harley and Dinah put fingers down. Helena saw an opening. “Wait, all three of you went to prom? Tell me about it. The movies make me think I missed out on something special.”

“Well, it ain't that special, and you'da hated the get-ups. But I went with a friend. We spiked the punch and got kicked out. The after party rocked though,” said Harley.

“Typical. Went with my lab partner. Guy had bad breath. Hated the dress. Mom cried when she took the pictures. That's why I did it,” said Renee. She sipped from her shot.

“Dinah?” Helena inquired.

“Oh, I went my senior year. I'm glad I went because my mom died a year later. She also cried. Moms, huh?” Dinah said.

“My mom would've cried too, I'm sure,” Helena said, and Dinah met her eyes with a smile. They were all silent for a beat, then finished the game, Harley losing swiftly on “never have I ever robbed a bank,” and downing two shots despite it being her turn again.

“Harley, you're up,” said Renee. Harley drew a card, and so they went on, until Helena put a jack of clubs under the beer tab and popped it. She chugged the beer while everyone cheered. _This is just like a high school movie_ , she thought.

Later, Harley and Cass were passed out on the fold-out couch (Helena had insisted upon the furniture, telling Dinah they needed plenty of places for friends to crash), Renee in the easy chair, and Helena and Dinah headed to their separate rooms. 

“Night, H.” 

Helena, bold with liquid confidence, blurted back, “Come watch a movie with me?” She stumbled forward a bit, catching herself on the door frame.

“Sure, I'm not that tired yet. Lightweights,” Dinah gestured towards the living room.

“Ha! Yeah, lightweights,” Helena said, swaying a bit. Dinah put a steadying hand on her shoulder and Helena realized they could name new Crayola colors after whatever shade her own cheeks became. Dinah took the wheel, steering her onto her own bed.

“Be back in a minute. Pajamas,” said Dinah. She left for her own room.

Soon, they were pressed lightly together at the shoulder as they watched _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ in Helena's California king-size bed (“I'm a restless sleeper!” Helena had defended her choice of enormous mattress). She tried to ignore the fact that they didn't have to sit so close in such a large space. 

“Hey, D,” Helena slurred, using the shortened name like she normally wouldn't have done. “Wanna play another game?”

“Like what?”

“How about 'tell the truth or I dare you'?” Helena said.

Dinah laughed, a full-throated, gorgeous sound. “Truth or dare, you mean?”

Helena joined in on the laughter until they lost themselves in it, stupid with the lack of air in their lungs. “Yeah, yeah, that one,” she wheezed. 

“Okay, okay. Okay,” Dinah composed herself. “Truth or I dare you.” She smirked. “You go first.”

“Oh I ask? Okay, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” said Dinah.

“I dare you to... hmm. Sneak out into the kitchen and bring me a glass of water.”

“H, I would've just gotten you a glass of water, you don't have to make up a game for it.”

“No! No no no! I do want the water—”

“You need the water, you mean.”

“—I just want to play the game too. Forget the water.” But Dinah was already out of bed, easing the door open. Within a minute she was back, a gleaming glass of ice water in hand like manna from heaven, or the water Jesus would turn into wine. “Oh thank god,” Helena said, taking it and polishing half off in one gulp. 

“My turn,” Dinah said, smiling and now tucked back under the covers, perhaps just a hair closer than she was before. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth. Don't wanna get up.”

“Do you wish you could go back and do high school again?” Dinah asked.

“No.” Helena said, no second guessing. Dinah looked suspicious. “No! I had a wonderful experience with my schooling. I know six languages.”

“But didn't you miss the dances? The football games? The pranks? The extra-curriculars?”

“I had extra-curriculars!” said H.

“Assassination isn't the same as marching band, H.”

“It's close, from what I've heard,” Helena said, and Dinah snorted.

“I wish I could've seen you there, at the dances or drinking hot chocolate at a football game. We would've been friends,” said Dinah. “I'd like to think.”

“Me too,” said Helena. “So what did you do in high school? Who were you?”

“Oh, you have to ask 'truth or dare' first! You can't do that,” said Dinah.

“Okay, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” said Dinah, megawatt grin on display, tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth.

“Really?” cried Helena despondently, almost loud enough to wake the other girls in the living room. “After you knew I wanted to ask you a question?”

“Fine, fine!” Dinah said, suppressing a laugh. “Truth.”

“Good! So, who were you in high school?”

Dinah's grin turned sad. “A bit of a loner. I spent my nights patching up mom, mostly, worrying about her. You know, she always made sure I had dinner, even when she was out fighting crime. Always a home-cooked meal, somehow.” She drifted off for a moment, then seemed to come back to herself. “At school I did do choir. I've always loved to sing. So did mom.”

Helena, letting her guard down a bit, said, “You have a beautiful voice. I'm glad we can talk about our moms together. I've never had anyone I could share that with.”

Dinah looked at her, eyes sad. She covered up with a smile. “Well, yeah, we're the orphans club.”

Helena remained stoic. “No, really. I appreciate it. I love when you share it with me.” It was Dinah's turn for her cheeks to darken. They both turned their attention back to Ferris Bueller. He, Cam and Sloane were making their way around the art museum. 

Finally, Dinah said, “My turn. Truth or dare?”

Helena came to. “Well, if you shook it up last time, only fair I'd do the same this time. Dare.” Dinah was quiet. “D? What's the dare?” Helena asked.

“Okay, maybe not a dare but... can you just hold me while we sleep?”

Helena was taken aback. This was certainly daring. “Of course,” she said, before she could overthink it. She hoped Dinah didn't hear any hesitation. There was nothing comforting in that. _Stupid Helena, get it together_ , she thought. _Make her happy!_ She turned on her side, opening her arms to her friend. Dinah rolled onto her own left side, tucking herself under Helena's arms and playing small spoon, and they fell asleep like that while Ferris made his mad dash home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a clip of the Lethal Weapon bit I reference: https://youtu.be/Q37xJtuQ24w


	2. And I will settle you down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going with this apparent theme of high school nostalgia, Helena and Dinah pretend to be Cassandra's moms at parent/teacher open house night while Helena is still hard at work on her plan.

It was open house night at Gotham City High School. Cass was in her freshman year, first semester, and hopefully doing well, but Dinah and Helena were about to find out for sure. They'd been chosen to play Cassandra's parents since Harley showing up as a parental figure would probably end with Cass being swept up again by Child Protective Services. Helena figured four moms were enough for a kid, no matter how scatterbrained and truly absurd at least one of them was. And Dinah and Helena were not as crazy, and of similar age, so it was decided they'd put on the front of being Cass's moms. The group as a whole had decided that it'd be best to pretend that Cass had two well-adjusted, loving moms, since Harley still wasn't her legal guardian. The better to keep the law off their backs.

So here were Helena and Dinah, sitting side-by-side on a wooden bench outside of the school office, waiting for Cass to finish up inside so they could meet with the counselor, Ms. Davis. Both women were nervous, hoping to keep up the ruse. Beforehand, they'd prepared by discussing their story – they'd both been orphans who wanted to provide a good life for another orphaned teen, they were married and both had good, solid jobs. Renee had even gotten them both gold wedding bands, though she wouldn't mention how she'd come by them. Helena twisted hers on her finger, feeling a bit wary of the whole thing still. Dinah laid a hand on her jiggling leg, hoping to settle her down. “It's okay, stop looking so nervous,” Dinah said. Helena sighed. She was supposed to be doing a better job of being the supportive friend – or well, wife, in this case, though that thought made her want to ralph. Dinah's hand still rested like a hot brand on her knee, but they'd discussed a sort of physical closeness to complete the illusion of their phony marriage, so she let it stay there, though her other leg started jiggling from the pent up energy.

“Stop!” Dinah whispered in a huff of laughter. “Why are you so anxious?”

“I've never been in a high school, really, and I've certainly never seen a guidance counselor. They're totally going to see through us,” Helena hissed.

“Well if you keep going on like this, yes. They will.” Dinah patted her knee, then laid her hand on Helena's clenched fist at her side. Without thinking, Helena turned her hand, palm side up, so their fingers slid together. She hoped she wasn't taking advantage of the play-acted closeness they were trying to maintain, but it didn't matter when she felt warm fingers squeeze hers back. They left their hands like that, between them on the bench, curled together like sleeping kittens, until a head peeked out of the office.

“Mrs. and Mrs. Lance! Please step in. I've just finished up with Cassandra. Let's talk,” said the woman Helena assumed was Ms. Davis. She stood, using the tension between their arms to drag Dinah up with her, and kept their hands clasped as they walked towards the door. Cass greeted them with a pathetic wave from a chair in the office, and they sat in the two next to her, finally letting go of one another's hands. “So, Cassandra is doing just fine. Some of her grades could use improvement, but not everyone's good at math. Have we considered tutoring?” Ms. Davis asked.

“No, well... this is the first we're hearing of her grades. Cass is still a new fixture in our, uh, family,” said Dinah, reaching over to squeeze Cass's hand as it rested on the chair. Cass pulled it back with a fake disgusted face.

“Well,” said Ms. Davis, rifling through a manila folder. “Here's her report card.” She handed them a copy, and Helena and Dinah bent over it, heads close together.

“A C- in pre-algebra? Cassandra, you can do better than that,” said Helena. She hoped she was playing the supportive parent well enough. Ms. Davis took it in stride.

“I think some tutoring would help. Unless one of you could help her instead?” the counselor said.

“Well, Helena?” said Dinah. “Surely you know algebra.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Cass, we'll do your math homework together, how about that?” 

Cass rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Ms. Davis gave a shrewd little smile. She seemed like a woman who didn't let much pass her by, and it threw Helena off a bit. Kind of like with Renee, Helena felt that Ms. Davis could see right through them. “Cassandra, why don't you head to the cafeteria? There's some punch and cookies. I'm sure these ladies will meet you there in a bit. I'd like a moment.” Cass left without a word, like there was fire licking her heels.

“So,” said Ms. Davis. “Tell me about yourselves. I normally wouldn't go into the parent's stories so much, but I know Cassandra is new in your household, so I thought it best that we're all acclimated to one another.”

“Well, we've been married for two years,” said Dinah. “And we're both orphans. Lost our parents as teens.”

“I'm glad we found each other,” blurted Helena. She glanced at Dinah, embers of embarrassment burning in her cheeks at her outburst. Dinah just gave her a soft smile.

“Me too. But that's why we thought maybe we wanted to take in an orphan, too. Give them a nice home,” said Dinah. “A friend of ours is a cop and knew about Cass — she had a bit of an issue with sticky fingers she's hopefully moved past — and we took the necessary steps to bring her home to us,” she lied.

Ms. Davis made a note on Cass's file, gave a little hum of acknowledgement. “And what do you do for a living?”

This part Helena had practiced in the mirror. “I work translating foreign language news articles and books into English, and Dinah is a vocal coach. Gives singing lessons.”

“Okay! Well I'm glad she's in a culturally eclectic household. She'll benefit from that enrichment,” said Ms. Davis.

The meeting ended soon after, and Helena was pumped up with the success of it. They left, throwing heartfelt thanks and goodbyes to Ms. Davis, and made their way to the cafeteria to find their “daughter.” They met eyes in the hallway and traded grins, happy to have pulled off their ruse. Helena would be sad when it ended; she thought maybe she'd encourage Cass to get more involved at school so she and Dinah could spend more time like this. The thought of making her own little family, just for herself, thrilled Helena. She never thought before much about a family of her own, but the idea that she could create this little circle of love for herself — even if part of it was a ruse — was thrilling. Dinah swayed into her a bit, bumping shoulders, and their fingers brushed.

In the cafeteria, they found Cassandra, chocolate chip cookies stacked like poker chips in front of her on a table, at least three other girls around her. 

“Are these your moms, Cass?” said one of the girls with a teasing grin on her face as Dinah and Helena approached.

“Yeah, kinda,” Cassandra said. She grabbed her stack of cookies and stood up to join the two women. “Let's go!”

“What was that about?” Dinah asked as they walked away.

“Oh, nothing. They just think it's funny to talk about my four moms. We don't really know what to call you all, which they get a kick out of. It's not a big deal. Don't worry, they won't tell Ms. Davis,” Cass said.

“So it's not because we're... two moms, I guess? Or... four?” asked Dinah.

“Nah,” said Cass. “Let's get this over with.” She led them both to a nearby room on the corner. Freshman English. Cassandra's first class of the day. Dinah and Helena exchanged a look over her head while the three entered and found seats. It was a tight squeeze — every student and at least one parent per student — so they ended up on a bench in the back with Dinah practically in Helena's lap. Helena worried she might singe Dinah's sleeve if it came near her cheek, it was so red hot. She tried to pay attention to the teacher — a Mrs. Klein, tall and rather lanky — but could only vibe along to the pulsing of her blood rushing in her ears. Her plan to make Dinah happy may be working, but it was having some unexpected side effects. She spent an entire day after they fell asleep together in her bed just ignoring Dinah's gaze. She admonished herself for hours, mentally taking a crowbar to her own inability to stay on track. It was a bit disorienting, not knowing what she was doing, barely knowing what she was feeling. She may argue for her own well-adjusted nature, but to say she had much experience with this particular brand of closeness would be a wild overstatement. She'd seen plenty of pretty apple-cheeked farm girls on the Sicilian countryside, but not many who made her want to puke glitter quite like Dinah did. _Disgusting_ , she thought.

Mrs. Klein was going on about a creative writing project the kids were doing. _That's cool_ , thought Helena, somewhere in the haze of screams in her mind. Slowly she came back to herself, only to realize Dinah had her hand resting on top of Helena's own, finger tracing her borrowed wedding band. Instead of sirens in her head, all she felt was calm. It felt nice, and Dinah really didn't have many other places to put her hand in these cramped quarters. Plus, Helena was determined to just completely ignore the whole wedding band tracing thing and that's that. She couldn't handle it, so she instead finished listening to Mrs. Klein's detailing of this personal essay project, and made a mental note to ask Cass later how it was going.

As they walked to the next class — gym — Cass a few steps ahead talking to a friend, they passed the sports and band photos and the like from years past, tournament winners, mostly. “D,” said Helena, swatting at Dinah's hand. “You went to this school, right?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. Why?”

“You said you were in choir. Is your picture here?” Helena asked.

There was an extended pause in which Helena had to check and make sure Dinah was still by her side. She wasn't. She was posed near a trophy case a few steps back. Helena looked ahead to check on Cass, who was entering the gym with her friend, then doubled back to where Dinah stood. “You okay, Dinah?” 

“Yeah, my picture is here.” Here, right here. She was pointing at it. A photo of the regional champion choir of 2010. Helena grinned.

“Where are you?” they both scanned the photo. Helena found her first, on the corner. “There you are! Right?”

“Yep, that's me,” said Dinah, a little awe in her voice. Their glances met.

“We definitely would've been friends,” said Helena, with a smirk. 

Dinah's eyes narrowed, then she realized why the halls were empty. “Shit!” She grabbed Helena's hand and led her into the gym. “We're being such bad moms,” she said with a grin back at Helena, still tethered to her by their hands.

Later that night, after visiting seven classes, buying a late night Slurpee for Cass and dropping her off at Harley's, Helena and Dinah were settled up at home, watching _Sixteen Candles_. They were making their way through the John Hughes collection, currently.

“What's one thing you regret about high school?” asked Helena. Trying to give Dinah all her attention and care was becoming second nature. It probably would've been easy even without the initial effort. It was less of a project now, and just the ease of caring about someone who was so endearing. 

“I'm only going to entertain this question because you're a weirdo with no high school experience of her own,” said Dinah, and bumped her shoulder against Helena's to soothe the sting of her words. She didn't move away, though, and Helena picked that moment to look down at her hand where it lay in her lap. Dinah was still wearing her ring too. It made her stomach tighten like the knots Sal used to make her tie. She still had never used one of his damn knots in all of her time as an assassin. 

“But, I guess I'm sad I didn't have a prom date," Dinah said.

“What?!” Helena yelped, almost coming off the couch. “Why?”

“Well,” Dinah said, with a cautious smile, a bit surprised by Helena's reaction. “I had a guy friend I thought would ask me out, and I held out until the last minute. Turned down everyone else. Don't know why I didn't just ask him. He stayed home that night, never told me those were his plans.”

Helena was silent, slowly nodding. “It's not a big deal,” said Dinah. “It sucked anyway.”

Helena expected to erupt, she started to feel outrage — not rage, just indignation on Dinah's behalf. But this wasn't the space for that. She felt her need to help Dinah as it flooded away the outrage. “You deserved better than that. You did,” Helena said. She gave an awkward fist-bump to Dinah's knee, then slowly laid her hand there.

“It's not really a big deal, H. Prom is a manufactured milestone. It doesn't matter,” Dinah said. Her voice was strangely quiet. Helena probably imagined a hitch to her breath.

“Well, watching these movies, I regret not having a prom,” said Helena, thumb rubbing the lightest of circles on the side of Dinah's knee. “There's really bad punch someone spikes. We all get a little tipsy and dance in dresses we'll think are hideous in five years. I have to be tipsy to dance, just so you know. There's an afterparty where everything is chaos. It sounds like fun. We could've had fun.” 

A slow smile crawls across Dinah's face at this. “Yeah, I think you're right.”

They both dozed off on the couch soon after that, Dinah's head on Helena's shoulder and Helena's hand on her knee. The last thought they both had as they drifted off was that they were feeling a little happier than normal. On the TV, Samantha finally got to kiss Jake Ryan over the candles of her cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realized the song I picked for these titles has little to do with whatever this has become. Still a great song, and you should listen to it, but a lot sadder than what this is turning out to be. I still like the thought of Helena being a metaphorical crowbar, though.


	3. I'm good at being uncomfortable so I can't stop changing all the time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We continue our courtship via film, Cass learns what Muppets are and I take on the whole "oh no, you got knifed during a mission" thing.

Harley had dropped Cass off with them, again, no notice, nothing, this time to run off after someone named … Poison, maybe? Surely not. Helena isn't sure, but here they are playing moms again (though since the open house night, they both eventually removed their rings until the next time they needed the legitimacy). Helena has made a huge meal — braised short ribs she'd been tending for at least half a day, a classic creamy polenta from a recipe she knew by heart, lots of wine in the authentic Italian fashion — so there's plenty to go around. She'd even invited Renee, who had declined, probably in favor of an ill-advised meeting with Ellen. They'd wrapped up a tough case that week, and Helena thought a nice meal would accomplish several things: one, they just fucking deserved it. Two, cooking was an outlet for her pent-up energy, and three, it made Dinah smile that dimpled sun ray of a smile, just at the scent of the meal. The noises she made upon tasting it were another beast.

It was after dinner, and they were halfway through their second bottle of wine (none for Cass, of course, who was again nursing soda. The girl needed some water, Helena thought, and went to set a glass of the ice cold stuff next to her in hopes she'd get the hint). Helena brought up watching a movie, and Dinah agreed, suggesting _Labyrinth_. Helena remembered the Muppets, and enjoying them, so she was on board. Though, she thought the leader of the Muppets was Kermit, not this Bowie Dinah kept going on about. She had been on a quest to show Helena films featuring her favorite rockstars. So far they'd watched _Moonstruck_ for Cher, and _Purple Rain_ for Prince (Helena insisted they play the soundtrack for the entire week after). She liked how Italian _Moonstruck_ was, was in awe of Cher, and kept telling Dinah to “snap out of it!” only for the other woman to devolve into giggles at the blessed sight of Helena being silly. Helena could only remember how Gianni's impersonation of Pa always cheered her up.

Cass, on the other hand, had never been familiarized with Muppets. About a third of the way through, Helena could tell she was a little freaked. “Dinah, this is mad weird,” she said. “I don't know if I like it.”

“Well, have Helena pick something else out. I'm taking a break from being the only flick picker around here,” Dinah said. Helena laughed like an absolute buffoon at the pun, going so far as to snort. _Way to go, killer_ , she thought. She quieted down to find Dinah and Cassandra's eyes on her in amusement. “Anyway,” Dinah continued with a wry smile flashing at Helena. “Pick. A flick. H.” She jabbed Helena's bare shoulder in three quick pokes as emphasis.

“I don't know! All I can think is _Lethal Weapon_! I'm blanking,” said Helena.

“No _Lethal Weapon_!” Said Dinah. “I absolutely _am_ getting too old for that shit!”

“Can I pick?” Cassandra said.

“What?!” both women said in unison.

“I can pick.”

“Okay,” said Dinah, cautiously. “But nothing weird.”

“Nothing will be as weird as that freak fur fest you just made us watch. What was up with that dude's crotch?” Cass taunted.

“Watch your mouth,” said Helena.

“Why? Because of 'crotch?' What else do I call it?”

“The point is Helena never chooses the movies," Dinah said.

“That's not fair! I just like when you choose.”

“Oh, so you don't have to bother?”

“No, because I like watching things you like. I learn new things about you,” said Helena.

Dinah's shoulders slumped out of fighting stance. “Oh.” The silence hung over them for a beat too long.

“Let's watch _Weird Science_ ," said Cassandra, "Harley thinks it's hilarious, and I know Helena likes old movies.”

“Only because Dinah does,” said Helena, still in defensive mode a bit. “Usually. Unless it's—”

“— _Lethal Weapon_ ,” finished Dinah, with a smile.

“Mmkay. So _Weird Science_?” asked Cass. They nodded, and settled on the sofa, one on each side of the girl. Helena could feel Dinah's eyes burning into the side of her head and was proud of herself for ignoring her as she pulled the movie up on the TV.

Hours and countless mutual glances later, after Cass had laughed her ass off at Chet turning into a giant monster, and after Dinah had wondered several times how this wasn't just as weird as _Labyrinth_ , movie night had finally come to an end. Cassandra was tucked away on the pull-out couch, and Dinah and Helena once again parted at their bedroom doors.

“Helena, I hope you're not mad about earlier. I didn't mean to sound angry that you never pick—”

“D, it's totally okay. I get it. I just like to know more about you. I feel like I'm collecting little bits of you and soon I'll have the whole set,” she joked.

“While I appreciate that and it's very sweet … very, very sweet of you … don't you think I want to know those things about you too?” She reached out to grab Helena's wrist, feeling her pulse between her thumb and forefinger. _A little fast for bedtime_ , she mused.

“You're just so much better at it than I am. You're better at all of these things,” Helena said. “But you know how my polenta tastes.” Dinah smirked and raised her eyebrows. “Hey, that's my family recipe!” said Helena, any attempt at innuendo going over her head. “But I'm saying, that's how you get to know me. It's just different. I like you helping me get more cultured while I help you stay fed. It's mutual.”

“I guess you're right. Just, don't clam up on me,” said Dinah. “It is mutual. It should be. I want you to know that,” she paused a beat, “that I want to know you too.” Dinah didn't think she imagined the breath Helena sucked in, fast to match the pulse still thrumming under Dinah's fingers. _Interesting_.

“I won't.” They stood like that for too long, Dinah's grip on Helena's wrist all but sealed, eyes all but locked. Cass gave a tremendous snore from the couch, breaking the tension. “I guess I'll head to bed.”

“Me too,” said Dinah, regretfully dropping her hand. They both pivoted away and towards their doors.

“Hey, Dinah?”

“Yeah?”

“Let's watch _Terminator_ some time,” said Helena with a self-satisfied grin. Dinah clamped her hand over her mouth fast to hide her snort of delight. At least she was putting in an effort.

“' _Terminator_. Of course it's _Terminator_ ,” she said once the giggles were deferred. “Dark and scary assassin? Motorcycle? Shocking,” she teased.

“Stop it! I made a suggestion. Take it or leave it,” Helena grinned. She stepped into her room, turned and stuck her tongue out at Dinah but couldn't sustain it for the size of her grin.

About a week later and Harley was back. The Birds were on a new case, this time tailing a local official who owed some debts to the mob and was skimming off local charities to pay back said debts. He had a gang of stiffs strong-arming sums of money from the charities at various benefits, fundraisers and events. The lowest of the low. That night there was a benefit concert for the Gotham City Cancer Research Center, and word on the street was that these toughs were going to stick-up the ticket booth around midnight. The Birds would be waiting for them.

Midnight rolled around and like clockwork, the men rolled up themselves, in a comically large and impressive car. Secrecy was not the name of the game when you had a blank check for crime, straight from city hall. The venue wasn't necessarily small but it was a bit unassuming — “an indie vibe,” Dinah had said — and the entrance for the concert hall was on the side of the building. Other than some neon beer signs, the residual light of a marquee up high and to the left, it was mostly dark. Dinah and Helena hid in the shadows, ready to flank the doors after the men went in, planning to ambush them on their way out. Renee stood watch over that absurd car, where a getaway driver was waiting. She was their failsafe, and would surely take down their plate numbers, too. 

The men came out mere moments later, Helena having slunk up the stairs to now shadow the exit, waiting, and she used the momentum of the two men as they left to kick them down the stairs, where Dinah was waiting to deliver a roundhouse kick to the gut of one, a punch to the face of another. She kicked away their guns under a nearby van, and snatched up the briefcase of money, at which point she went to just below the staircase landing, where Helena was waiting to grab the loot and toss it back inside so they could leave like they came in — anonymous and in the shadows. As Dinah was distracted preparing to heave this enormous, ridiculous metal suitcase up a flight of stairs, one of the grounded men produced a knife from an ankle holster and slashed, fast, two times, across Dinah's calves. With a yowl of pain, she collapsed, and he wrenched the briefcase from her, shaking off the dirt in which his partner still writhed. In what she could only later describe as a “rage blackout,” Helena hurled herself off the staircase landing, right onto the monster's back, taking her own knife and jabbing it once, twice, three times for good measure into his side. He fell to the ground and she stood over him, kicking him a few times in mindless fury.

“Helena! Helena!” Dinah said from the ground. “Stop! It's okay!”

Helena wrenched herself from her world of anger and remembered who she should really be devoting this effort to right now. She tossed the briefcase back onto the landing, hoping not to make enough noise to rouse suspicion over the loud concert, and headed back to Dinah. She bent down, swept her into her arms and carried her, bridal style, to the alley where Dinah's car was hidden, where Renee would meet them.

“Oh, wow. Okay,” said Dinah. None of Helena's rescuing had been painful so far, but it wasn't like she got carried this way every day.

“I swear to god, if that fucker isn't dead I'll track him down and kill him again. Or for the first time. Whatever,” said Helena.

“I'm sure you got him, Killer,” Dinah said, appreciatively. 

“It's Huntress,” Helena said with a very small, relieved smirk. At this point, they'd reached Dinah's car. Helena balanced her in one arm and a tensed thigh to open the backseat. Dinah barely kept herself from cursing, and not from pain. It was ... not unattractive.

“You could've probably put me down, you know? I have one good leg, at least,” said Dinah from the comfort of the car. Helena just rolled her eyes as if it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

“Where is Renee? Doesn't she know we need to get out of here?”

“I'm right here, asshole,” said Renee as she jogged up, holstering her gun as she went. “Oh shit, what's wrong with Dinah?”

“I got slashed at a bit with a knife. It's no big deal,” said Dinah.

“It is a big deal, actually,” said Helena, looking more than a little pissed.

“Okaaaaay,” said Renee. “Well, let's get back to yours, get her cleaned up."

“You drive,” Helena said, tossing her the keys and getting in the back with Dinah.

Helena sat by the window, Dinah by the other window with her legs delicately propped in Helena's lap, cautious of the injury, which was bleeding lightly onto Helena's pants. “Sorry about your pants,” said Dinah. The other woman just stared ahead, jaw clenching and unclenching so powerfully Dinah could see it in the dark. “Come on. I'm fine.”

Silence.

“Snap out of it!” she said in her best Cher voice, swatting at Helena's shoulder in lieu of a slap. Helena slowly grinned at that. She loved this stupid secret language they had..

It was later that night, after the tumult of cleaning Dinah's wounds — Renee and Helena argued over how to do it properly, and Helena wouldn't trust that Dinah was okay — and after Renee had departed, leaving them with a handful of loose, kind of suspicious painkillers. They sat at the kitchen table, nursing beers and leftover pasta, seated close with Dinah's legs once again stretched across both chairs and perched in Helena's lap. It's like she was the new keeper of Dinah's legs. She didn't think she'd have a problem keeping the injury elevated at this rate.

“I'll grab the bean bag from the living room and put it in yours and I'll be there if you need anything at all,” said Helena.

“You're going to sleep in that bean bag chair we bought for Cass? I don't think so. Just sleep in the bed. It wouldn't be the first time,” Dinah said. You could have started a forest fire with the heat from Helena's face at that memory.

Regardless, after a “quick change” in her own room, during which she stole a five minute pep talk in the mirror and threw on the closest pajamas at hand, Helena found herself back in Dinah's room, the other woman propped up on her pillows just like she'd left her.

“So, movie?” Dinah asked. “I already have something pulled up and I'm the patient so you can't say no.”

“Of course I would never say no,” said Helena. She got in bed, under the covers, but kept her distance from Dinah. She didn't want to presume, but before she'd even pulled the corner of the sheets fully over her lap, Dinah was curled into her side, head resting on her shoulder. “It's _The Princess Bride_ , have you seen it?”

“Once, when I was a kid. There were big rats or something?” said Helena.

“Oh yes, the ROUS's,” said Dinah with a very serious look. “Of course.”

They watched for a bit, until the “as you wish!” scene where Westley and Buttercup fling themselves down a hill. 

“Thanks for taking care of me tonight. I know the rage got in the way a bit. I'm sorry you have to go to that place,” said Dinah. "You're so much more than that, you know?"

“I'm glad you think so," Helena said, craning her head to look down at Dinah. "Actually, I'm okay. I handled it. It was more important to … well, you were more important."

“I know,” Dinah whispered. They stared at each other for much too long.

Dinah eventually drifted off, head still pillowed on Helena's shoulder, hairs tickling the skin there. Helena wasn't sure she'd sleep like this, and she finished the movie. It was good. A little weird, but good. But Helena couldn't help thinking about Westley coming back from death, and everything he did for true love. How he always did as Buttercup wished, all to see her smile. Helena looked down at the person she would do anything just to get a smile from. _Oh shit_ , she thought. It hit her like a freight train. _Am I in love?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to diversify chapter titles into some other Fiona Apple lyrics. This one is from Extraordinary Machine. I still don't know what this is, but thanks for reading it.
> 
> Here's the scene from Moonstruck I reference, in case you don't know it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLgMFwStTHc  
> c/w for some domestic violence (is there a non-problematic 80s film? Seems not, unfortunately)


	4. A CinemaScope screen, showing a dancing bird of paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinah celebrates her mother's birthday. Helena and Dinah chaperone Cass's homecoming dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit more from Dinah's perspective. It just felt right for the chapter.

Helena babied Dinah for at least two weeks after her sharp encounter with a knife, including at least three days post-injury where Helena followed her closely everywhere, “Just in case you collapse from the pain,” she argued. Once she let up on escorting her to the bathroom door, Dinah found her attention tolerable, if not a bit flattering. Anyone who knew Helena knew how single-minded she could be, though. Like a heat-seeking missile. Helena made her pasta, soup, an enormous lasagna, and desserts galore, more than half of which were gobbled up by Cass and Harley.

The most baffling, or maybe endearing, part was that Helena slept in Dinah's bed for at least a week after the incident, without complaint or Dinah cajoling her into it. It was like she just needed permission the whole time, and Dinah didn't mind because she slept better with someone by her side (and she ignored the voice that said that was never true until Helena). By the time the week ended and Dinah's injuries were healed into a mere scratch, it had become difficult to keep up the ruse, so Helena migrated back to her own room and Dinah found she missed her. Dinah wasn't sure why she'd normally find this behavior suffocating from anyone else but charming from Helena. Maybe it was because her care was genuine and not performative, or because she didn't expect anything back. Or hell, maybe Dinah just really liked her. But despite their recent closeness, she decided not to share with Helena that her mother's birthday was coming up, a day she always found hard to get through. She planned to go to a sad movie and cry, then to a bar to drink away her sorrows alone. 

The date came around and Dinah had recruited Renee to develop a precarious alibi for her day alone. They were supposedly going shopping for an outfit for some vague anniversary dinner between Renee and Ellen. Renee agreed to corroborate the lie as long as she didn't “get wrapped up in your little drama with Killer,” whatever that meant. As Dinah was preparing to leave, Helena was watching TV, some trashy Italian soap opera she'd found on Netflix and watched subtitle-free so Dinah never understood the plot. “I'm going to help Renee with that thing,” said Dinah, grabbing her keys and hoping to make a clean and swift exit. She knew if Helena found out what the day was, and how Dinah felt about it every year since her mom passed, she'd break down in front of her. She didn't want to look weak, and more than that, she didn't know if her heart could handle the compassion she was liable to see in Helena's eyes when she found out. She just wanted to feel like shit for a day.

“What are you doing again?” Helena asked, pausing her soap.

“We're shopping for, um...” Shit, she'd forgotten their alibi. She improvised. “An outfit for a gala.”

“I thought you mentioned an anniversary of some sort?”

“Oh yeah, for Renee and Ellen's anniversary dinner. That's what the outfit is for,” said Dinah, relieved someone remembered her lie.

Helena looked at her with a hint of suspicion in her crinkled eyes. “How do you celebrate an anniversary with someone you aren't with?” She asked.

“Well you know Renee. Loves drama,” Dinah said. “Speaking of which, I better head out.”

“Have fun!” said Helena, and Dinah turned around at the door to meet her beaming goodbye smile with one of her own.

Dinah took herself to the saddest movie she could find – some teen drama about a kid who was dying who falls in love with another hospital patient – and sobbed the whole time. It was highly cathartic.

After, she left the theatre with tear-stained cheeks and was hailing an Uber for a ride to her favorite bar when she spotted her across the street: Helena leaving the post office. It'd be one thing if she was just walking past, but Helena was walking out the door the second Dinah looked up and their eyes met like magnets. Helena's unassuming smile warmed Dinah's heart before she remembered the lie she'd just been caught in the midst of. Helena jogged across the street, wary of oncoming traffic.

“Dinah! I was just mailing something to Sicily. What are you doing here? Where's Renee?" Her eyes darted up to the marquee above them. "Were you seeing a movie?”

Dinah quickly calculated the velocity of this lie in her head. If she kept it up, she'd have to materialize Renee out of nowhere. So she decided to tell the truth. Mostly.

“Okay, sorry. I came to see a movie by myself,” she said.

“Oh shit,” said Helena. Her smile fell off her face and she took a half-step backwards. “You didn't invite me because I'm suffocating you, right?”

“What? No!” said Dinah. “I just needed some alone time.”

“No, no, it's okay. It's because you can never watch a movie or do anything without me there. I'm so sorry. This isn't what I wanted,” said Helena. “I'm so sorry I misread everything.”

Helena was taking this a lot harder than Dinah expected. “Helena, that isn't it at all. I just--”

“--Wanted to be alone,” Helena finished for her. Dinah couldn't argue that, on this specific day, she did want to be alone.

“I won't say you're wrong,” she said, and her heart sunk with the swift drooping of Helena's face. “But it's not what you think.”

“No, it's okay. I knew this would happen,” said Helena. “I'll leave you to it.” She turned on her heel and walked away, towards her bike parked across the street, before Dinah could get a word out.

Dinah decided to go through with her plan to drink herself silly at her favorite bar, a dive called the Madagascar Club, and added that interaction with Helena to the reasons why the binge felt necessary. Halfway through her second drink and she wasn't sure how sustainable her plan actually was. She couldn't stop thinking about Helena and her disappointment. After her fourth ill-advised drink, she caught an Uber home.

It was almost midnight, and Dinah expected as she crept in, more than a little drunk, that Helena would be in bed. Instead, she found her on the couch, watching her incomprehensible soap opera.

Dinah had half a mind to try to slip past her, but her drunken, inelegant closing of the door made that possibility just a dream. Helena's keen assassin skills had her snapping her eyes up to Dinah's the second the door clicked shut.

“Hey,” said Dinah. In response, Helena just turned back towards the TV, not pausing it but at least turning the volume down a bit. It was a start. “I'm sorry, Helena. I'm sorry about earlier.” Dinah was a glad to be drunk because honestly it made this easier.

“I know. I'm just sorry I didn't get the hint before,” said Helena. “I'm the one who should be apologizing.”

“Helena, I don't know how many times I have to tell you: I like you. I want to know you better. We're friends,” said Dinah, turning the corner from guilty into near outrage at Helena's continuing low self-esteem.

“Well, Dinah, it's a hard message to get when you're lying so you can sneak off to see a movie without me. Clearly you're just being nice because you're a nice person, but I don't want you to pity me,” said Helena.

“Fine, H, fine. It's more than that,” said Dinah, flopping down on the couch a good arms-width from Helena. “Today was an important day.”

“Whatever it is, Dinah, you can tell me. I just can't bear the thought that you feel suffocated by me.”

“It's not that at all. In fact, I kept it from you because I was afraid of my own reaction. That's not your problem. But, today was my mother's birthday. It's just hard for me, still,” Dinah said, getting quieter as she powered through her confession.

“Dinah, I had no idea. I'm so sorry. I made it about myself,” said Helena.

“No, I'm sorry,” said Dinah. She swatted at the tear she felt leaking from her eye. “I should have been an adult about it. I had a good cry at the movies but when I went to the bar, all I could think about was how I disappointed you.”

“You could never, ever disappoint me,” said Helena. She sat up, shifted closer and gathered both of Dinah's hands in her own. “Not a chance.”

Dinah brushed her thumbs over Helena's knuckles, not trying to stop the tears now. “I don't know why I couldn't just trust that you'd understand, whatever my reaction” said Dinah.

“I get it. I usually spend my parents' birthdays beating the shit out of someone or something,” said Helena. “It's rough. We used to spend our birthdays doing our favorite things as a family, and it makes me think about all the good times, all the things they loved. All the things I miss.” Dinah swore she saw a tear escape the corner of her eye as she spoke.

“I think I was afraid I couldn't handle someone understanding, for once,” said Dinah. She was almost sobbing as she spoke. Their hands were still clasped together, fingers whisking away the tension. Dinah disengaged one hand to swipe at her face, gather some of the tears in her fist. Helena reached her free hand up to Dinah's other cheek, taking on the burden of those tears. Their gaze met, heavy between them.

Dinah surged up in a wave of emotion and captured Helena's neck between her arms, sweeping her into a hug. They held on for a while, Dinah's sobs quieting slowly until they simply sat in each other's arms, rocking slowly. Helena finally pulled back, their wet cheeks brushing, sticky with tears. A pause, noses touching, breath mingling. _This is it_ , thought Dinah, and waited for something she didn't know she was waiting for.

At that moment, a pounding came at the door. Helena pulled back quickly, though their arms still hung around one another. A voice through the door shouted, “Hey! Let me in! Harley had to go help Ivy with something. Hello? Anyone?” It was Cassandra.

Helena rose, leaving Dinah a chance to clean her face a bit. She opened the door to the girl. “Hey, Cassandra. Harley left again?” Cass gave a sad little nod. “Well come in, we'll get the sofa ready. It's late.”

That night they slept in separate rooms, refusing or unable to talk about what had happened, and what had almost happened. Dinah cried herself to sleep, though maybe it wasn't solely because of her mother.

Two weeks later and the girls were preparing for Cassandra's homecoming dance that night. Harley had bought the girl a bedazzled suit in bright pinks and purples to wear. Dinah and Helena dusted off their fake wedding bands to play chaperone. The past two weeks had been rough, Helena careful as if she still thought Dinah's behavior on her mom's birthday was actually a message that she hated the other woman's company. She said otherwise, but Dinah could watch as she tiptoed on eggshells around her. Still, they managed a few movie nights during the time since, and most everything had returned to normal, even if Helena was still standoffish with her. Dinah missed their closeness, though the almost kiss was something she was trying not to examine in too much detail.

Regardless, she and Helena both found themselves in smart pantsuits, attending a high school dance donning fake wedding rings. If you'd told Dinah a year ago that this is what she'd be doing, she'd have laughed so hard Sionis might have taken it personally. Now she found she didn't mind, wanting instead to make sure Helena and Cassandra had a good time.

They were hanging out against a gym wall, keeping a casual eye on the dance floor shenanigans, wearing nametags with their first names, and “Cassandra Cain's Mom” printed beneath. Dinah noticed a particular warmth from Helena whenever someone mentioned their (fake) marriage or their (fake) parentage of Cass. Her need for a family dynamic was obvious, and Dinah understood that need. Who didn't yearn for a family of their own? 

While their eyes cruised the dance floor like they were on a mission, Cass hung with her friends. They both found their gazes strayed to her the most.

“Well, you can't say you've never been to a high school dance now,” said Dinah. So far that night they'd been closer than they had in weeks, even holding hands as they entered the crowded gym under the guise of not losing one another in the stampede. Dinah hated that the hand holding had to be so complicated in her mind. Why couldn't she engage and disengage easily? Instead her palms sweat obviously and ominously, and she felt a stomach plunge of disappointment every time they disconnected. She was usually the calm and collected person in a relationship but she found herself fumbling and nervous like this was her first date when it wasn't even a real date.

Helena smirked, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. “This isn't how I imagined it,” she said. The quiet hung between them despite the din of the music in the sonorous gym.

“I hope you know I'm glad we're spending this time together. I think you feel weird around me right now,” Dinah said, playing with fire. Fire that burned around the topic of their almost-kiss. Fire that seemed to light Helena's face from the inside.

“I don't feel weird. I don't. I wouldn't,” stammered Helena.

“Sure, sure,” said Dinah. The interpersonal silence consumed them again. Cyndi Lauper's “Time After Time” came on over the speaker system. “Oh, classic prom slow dance song,” Dinah said, breaking the tension. “Hey, let's dance. It'd look good for our image,” she smiled. “And I think you need to check this off the bucket list.”

“I don't know how to dance,” said Helena. "They didn't teach me that at assassin school."

“It's not dancing, it's swaying. Come on!” Dinah said. She grabbed Helena's hand and tugged her out to the dance floor. They found a spot near the edge, and Dinah placed Helena's hands on her hips, moving her own around Helena's neck. They swayed to the tune of “if you're lost you can look and you will find me.” Dinah pushed closer, resting her head in the crook of Helena's neck and looping her arms tighter around the taller woman's shoulders as they moved. Helena shifted from one foot to the other a bit like Frankenstein, but Dinah was too distracted by their closeness to really notice her awkwardness. She swore she could feel Helena's heartbeat against her own breastbone. They danced through two slow songs with the closeness that a married couple might have.

“Get a room,” said a voice at their elbows. They looked down to find Cass and a sniggering friend.

“Get lost,” said Dinah, with a smile, then returned her head to Helena's shoulder, trying to keep the other woman's skittishness at bay. Cass grinned and pulled her friend towards the punch bowl.

“Are we being inappropriate?” Asked Helena, anxiety clear in her voice.

“No,” said Dinah with an airy chuckle. “Plus, we're married, remember? We're allowed to do this. We're still technically newlyweds. Two years? That's nothing.” She pulled away enough to meet Helena's eyes. If she saw them dart down to her lips, she pretended not to. She returned her head once more to Helena's shoulder and felt the other woman gulp, heard and felt her throat bob. “Want to get out of here?” She asked quietly, partially hoping Helena wouldn't hear.

“Yes,” breathed Helena, relief evident in her smoky voice. “Please.” Dinah pulled back, grabbing Helena's right hand with her left and pushing through the crowd.

They wound up at Dinah's car in the parking lot. A handful of kids loitered about, and the two women used their sternest voices to urge them back inside. They were mostly successful. Now they slumped against the side of the vintage sports car, trading back and forth a flask Dinah had pulled from her glove compartment.

“So what did you think of your first dance?” Asked Dinah.

Helena avoided her gaze. “It was great,” she said, her tone leaden.

“Well don't get too excited,” Dinah said, a bit put out.

“What? I was being serious. I felt like I was in a movie.” Helena said, and Dinah could sense her earnestness. Suddenly, it felt like she couldn't contain it anymore. The moment felt perfect. Consequences be damned.

“You know, at the end of the movie, they usually kiss,” said Dinah. This time she definitely heard Helena gulp. “Wouldn't want to give you an incomplete experience, you know?” At this point, Dinah was standing in front of Helena, whose back was still pressed to the cool metal of the car. Instead of being afraid she was imposing, Dinah imposed further, stepping lightly between Helena's legs. Without a second to overthink it, she looped a cool hand behind Helena's hot neck and pulled her in most of the way. Helena gave a slight nod, eyes fixated on Dinah's lips. They met in a soft, barely there kiss.

Instead of pulling back, Helena leaned into it, opening her lips in a gasp that allowed Dinah to deepen the kiss. Arms went around Helena's neck, her own hands coming to rest on Dinah's hips to mimic their earlier dancing pose. They were full-on making out in a high school parking lot during a dance. If this wasn't a genuine teen movie experience, Dinah didn't know what was. _John Hughes eat your heart out_ , she thought.

Minutes later, Dinah pulled away first, suddenly aware that they could be found out and banned from future chaperone gigs. If all of them ended like this, that wasn't a chance she was willing to take.

“We should go back inside,” she said. Their chests were heaving to the same breathing pattern. “That was a wow, by the way.” She reached a hand to cup Helena's cheek, feeling rather than seeing her blush. The other woman remained silent. “Was that okay?” a newly nervous Dinah asked.

“Yes!” Helena nearly shouted. “God, yes. When can we chaperone again?” Dinah smirked a megawatt smile and just grabbed Helena's hand again, dragging her back into the gym for one more dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Fiona Apple's "Hot Knife." Cyndi Lauper song is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdQY7BusJNU


	5. To pray on or wish on or something like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first date where nobody puts Dinah in a corner.

This had never been a part of her plan, but apparently it made Dinah happy, and Helena was more than happy to oblige.

This, of course, being … them. Their relationship. Not just a friendship. A relationship.

Helena was still giddy with the thought of it, even if her face remained admirably stoic.

After the dance, they'd taken Cass directly home to Harley. She'd had a good night and would probably be a handful, on a sugar high, mouth painted red with punch and candy. Helena didn't wish an energetic preteen on anyone, not after spending several hours among hundreds of them. She had enough energy of her own pumping through her veins. She closed her eyes to try to control her racing heart, partly hoping Dinah wouldn't feel her pulse from where their hands were joined on the console of her car, partly hoping she would feel it and know just how happy she made Helena. It was such a weird feeling, wanting to be known. She hadn't realized just how much of herself had cracked open in her journey to make Dinah happy. As it turned out, she made Dinah happy. Knowing her made Dinah happy in the same way it made Helena happy. It was truly a miracle.

They'd danced some more in the gym after their rendezvous in the parking lot, arms looped around each other, breath mingling, doing very little chaperoning until they had to break up a fight between two boys arguing over a song choice at the DJ table. Helena liked seeing Dinah put the law down. When they gathered Cass and headed out to the car, Helena's arm around Dinah's shoulders and Dinah's arm around her waist, Cass made fake gagging noises behind them. “You're a brat, you know?” Dinah had thrown over her shoulder at the girl, but she pulled Helena closer.

Now they were back at their apartment. Their apartment. Hmm.

“Do you think it'll be weird to date while we live together?” Helena asked. They were practically sat on top of each other on the couch, hands clasped while Dinah leaned heavily into Helena's shoulder. Their lips hadn't touched since they “played tonsil hockey” by the car, as Cass put it. Some of her friends had seen them and word got back to the girl. She didn't seem particularly happy about it, but considering that they didn't blow up anything like Harley would have, she got over it. 

Dinah grinned, pressing her nose to Helena's neck. “Hon, I think we've been dating, kind of. I mean, what do you call you making me food, us having movie nights, snuggling, sleeping in the same bed, and the fake marriage we're pulling off at Gotham High? Not that those are all traditional hallmarks of dating, but the point is … we're already pretty close. Maybe we don't need to worry about traditional dating so much. We're pretty untraditional, you know?”

“Okay,” said Helena. She turned her face down to Dinah to accept a kiss that quickly deepened. She fell sideways on the couch and soon found an armful of Dinah on top of her while the sound of the TV faded into the background.

The next day, as she laid in bed contemplating each of Dinah's freckles – her left cheek had the most of them, and the sprinkle across her nose was the goddamn cutest thing Helena had ever seen – she also contemplated the rules of it all. Dinah didn't seem too concerned about whether or not they could date traditionally. Helena thinks she heard Renee talk about this; she called it “U-Hauling,” but she and Dinah had used a U-Haul months ago when they moved in, to transport Dinah's things and their new furniture, so how was that relevant? It apparently referred to a tendency among female couples to “wife up” quickly, as Renee put it. She told Helena a joke: “What does a lesbian bring on a second date? A U-Haul.” Considering their playacting at being wives, Helena found it an easy concept to swallow. Perhaps they had been a little oblivious.

They'd discussed it the night before, in between kisses and touching, and maybe the removal of shirts. Dinah thought, with all of Helena's niceties – the cooking, the pampering, the attentions, the physical closeness – that she was coming onto her. That was fine by Dinah, and she thought they could take it as slow as they needed, but after Helena stayed in her bed an entire week after her accident, Dinah became a little impatient. Under the guise of giving Helena a genuine high school dance experience, she kissed her in the parking lot. It was the perfect excuse to jump start things.

Helena had just thought she was being nice, but she guessed now that she was technically flirting the whole time. The difference is intent, though. She never intended to flirt. It was just an unexpected, delightful consequence of her project to make Dinah happier.

Even so, Helena wanted to take Dinah out on the perfect date. She didn't buy that they wouldn't date like she saw in the movies, just because they lived together. Maybe she could take her to the opera, like in Moonstruck, or they could kiss over a birthday cake like in Sixteen Candles, or go to an art museum like Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The possibilities seemed endless, and Helena would be remiss if she didn't admit that she was hungry for a little romance herself. The movies she and Dinah bonded over tended to fall under that umbrella of late; clearly a little subtext coming into play, but it had lit something in Helena, a need for closeness with someone, a need to have her person in the world. It was admittedly early, but she thought that person might be Dinah, and now she was dying to show her how she felt. How she'd gotten here from the hardened assassin she was and would always be, she couldn't track. She thought it was maybe just another side of her personality, a side that opened and blossomed just for Dinah. She opened her heart a sliver for the other woman, hoping just to put a smile on the her face, and before she knew it, she was smacked in the face with love. A bit violent, but on brand for them.

So enraptured by Dinah's freckles was she, it didn't grab her attention at first when her bedmate's eyes cracked open. When she happened to glance up to find a sleepy dimpled smile on Dinah's newly wakened face, she split into a grin of her own. “G'morning,” said Dinah, throat gritty with sleep. It was sexy, Helena thought, surprising herself at how easy those ideas came now that she knew and named them. 

“Good morning,” she returned, leaning across their clasped hands for a kiss. They carried on for a bit, the wet smack of their lips reverberating through the quiet of their apartment. Soon Helena's hands were rucking up Dinah's shirt over her sleep-warm skin and the morning was lost that way.

After a few blissful days in which they did little more than have sex, snuggle on the couch and beat up bad guys at night with such synchronicity it felt like dancing, Helena decided to pop the question to Dinah: Can we go on a date?

They ordered pizza, cracked open two bottles of wine that night and watched Say Anything. Helena related to John Cusack with his dark look and fondness for trench coats. “I always thought he was sexy,” Dinah said with a grin. “Maybe that's just my type.” Helena kissed the grin from her face, then licked it off. The wine was loosening her up this evening, as she'd intended. She knew Dinah was into her, but maybe she wanted to keep it simpler than going out on dates. Maybe she was over romance. It didn't seem like that was true, but Helena was bad at picking up signals, and she'd never done this before. Never wanted to. Now she was just relying on the wine to see her through.

“Dinah?” asked Helena, tongue loosened. “What's your favorite movie?”

“You know I love this one. When he holds the boom box up outside her window, it gets me every time.”

“No spoilers!”

“Sorry. And I love Purple Rain, of course. Prince. And The Princess Bride. But my favorite of all time has to be Dirty Dancing. Nobody puts Baby in a corner! Have you seen it?”

Helena shook her head, smile meeting Dinah's. “Well we could watch it right now, but I think I have a better idea,” Dinah said, and pressed her smile to Helena's. Helena never got to ask her on a date that night.

The next day, while waiting for the kettle to boil for Dinah's Throat Coat tea while the other woman slept, Helena pulled out her phone to check the movie times. She saw it. Serendipity. An anniversary release of Dirty Dancing playing at 7 this Sunday. It would be perfect for their date. Helena shot off a quick text to Renee to make sure they didn't have other plans that night, a mission or something for Cass. After confirming their free schedule, Helena pulled the trigger and purchased the tickets. She scribbled a note to Dinah – light on details, but to the point – and left it on the tea tray in her bedroom next to a steaming cup. Then she got in the shower.

When she got out, toweling water from the ends of her dark curls, she came into Dinah's room to grab her clothing. Slowly over the past few days their rooms had been merging into one mass of clothing and the things that make up a daily life. Dinah lay in the bed, sipping her tea. “Yes,” she said, looking up at her intruder with a grin.

“Yeah?” Helena asked. She noticed the crumpled, opened note on the tray.

“Yes, I'd love to go on a date with you,” Dinah said, rising from the bed. “Now come here.” She grabbed the taller woman, hands finding the knot where her towel was fastened and loosening it.

Sunday arrived and Helena had planned a whole day for them. Dinah had no clue what the day would bring them, and Helena just hoped it lived up to her expectations. First, an early morning of “canoodling,” as Renee put it, then a late brunch at their favorite local place, with the smoked salmon Dinah always tried to eat her weight in, and the sesame bagels just how Helena liked them, with seeds on the top and bottom half. Then they would go thrifting for old records and silly art work for their place, just like Dinah loved to do on Sundays alone. Then, snacks and early drinks at the Madagascar Club, just enough to get through the film. Helena sweat through three shirts the night before, slipping out of bed to slink into her own room and change them before Dinah woke up. She wasn't even nervous about this being her own first date, ever; more so, she simply wanted to give Dinah the time of her life. Prove to her that she'd made a good decision, choosing Helena. At least for now, anyway. Helena had no illusions that their connection was permanent, yet. She just felt she'd like it to be.

After a lazy morning in bed, they got ready separately. “I want to pick you up for our date,” Helena had whined. Dinah acquiesced, promising not to emerge from her room until Helena knocked.

Helena pushed up the sleeves of her black leather motorcycle jacket – Helena certainly didn't grasp these sorts of things normally, but she'd have to be a massive dumbass to miss the way Dinah looked at her in this jacket – and knocked on Dinah's bedroom door. The other woman opened it, beaming that same old smile that always sent Helena's heart fluttering.

She stuttered a bit when she opened her mouth. “Hi, Dinah. Ready for our date?”

“Of course I am. And thanks for picking me up, by the way. Very chivalrous.”

Helena rolled her eyes but met Dinah's grin with one of her own. “Very funny. I want to do this properly!” She whined.

“Baby, I know. I'm just teasing you. Let's get out of here?”

They rode Helena's bike to brunch, Dinah clinging to her from behind. “Oh, you know I love this place,” Dinah said when the arrived, giving Helena a little squeeze before dismounting. “And you know I love a bike ride.” Dinah crowded Helena in before she could unstraddle the bike. “You know, I figured out I liked you on a bike ride.”

“Is that so?” Helena asked, accepting the peck Dinah bent to give to her lips, arms coming to wrap around the seated woman's shoulders. Helena pressed a kiss to her sternum when she pulled away. She never pegged herself for someone who enjoyed public displays of affection but Dinah was intoxicating, so it couldn't be stopped.

“Yeah. I caught a whiff of your shampoo and realized I'd been smelling it in my dreams. My arms were squeezed tight around you and we were speeding through the streets but I'd never felt so safe. It had to be l-- had to be that I really liked you,” Dinah said, nose falling to the part in Helena's hair. 

They sat there for a moment, just breathing in one another, until Dinah pulled away. “OK, enough sappy shit. Let's get some fucking lox.”

Later, after Dinah had positively stuffed herself with bagels and salmon, cream cheese, capers, and so many cups of coffee that Helena lost track, they bounced around the thrift shop. Well, Dinah bounced and Helena followed. She couldn't tolerate more than two cups of coffee and her being caffeinated was everyone else's being regular, so it didn't make much of an impact. Dinah, on the other hand, would drink endless cups and become increasingly chattier. Helena thought it was the cutest thing this side of Dinah's nose freckles.

“Babe, look at this. We have to get it,” called Dinah, holding up a hideous velvet painting of a tiger.

“Whatever you want,” she called back, hiding a grimace behind a vintage teapot. Dinah would most likely change her mind when the next shiny object came in sight, she knew. “Don't forget, we have the bike, not your car,” she added, hoping it would further deter Dinah from said painting.

“Oh shit, you're right. Maybe we can come back?” 

“Sure thing, sure thing.” Somehow, they got out of there with only a matching set of goblets Dinah promised to fill with alcohol once they got home. Helena stashed them under the seat of her bike.

At the Madagascar Club, they went through at least three rounds and a plate of hot pretzels. Helena made sure to bring plenty of quarters and Dinah filled the jukebox up with oldies, songs she sang at the club, favorites of her mother's. By the time she queued up Prince's “Purple Rain,” it was time to go.

“Remember this one, H? From Purple Rain?”

“Yeah! Hey, speaking of movies, we have somewhere else to be,” Helena said, standing from her bar stool and reaching for her jacket. It was already 6:30.

“OK, hey! One more round?” Helena nodded and Dinah did a little fist bump and ordered one more round. The theater was just around the corner anyway.

Dinah couldn't hide her smile when she saw it on the marquee: “DIRTY DANCING, 7 PM.” She squealed a bit, though she'd kill Helena if she ever told anyone that. “Shut up!” she said, swatting at Helena's jacket.

“Oh that? No, we're seeing Lethal Weapon 28,” Helena said, watching Dinah's face drop. She must have been more convincing than she'd intended. “Oh my god, I'm just kidding. We're seeing Dirty Dancing.”

“Oh thank god. You had me there, H. You're so deadpan. Lighten up. DIRTY DANCING!”

Helena didn't hate the movie. She rather liked the way Johnny dressed, all rolled t-shirts and leather jackets, and Baby was hot. More so, though, Dinah had the time of her life, just like the song said. She mouthed along to her favorite lines, like “I carried a watermelon” and “nobody puts Baby in a corner,” and she cried when they did the lift at the end. All the while she kept a firm grip on Helena's hand. It was the perfect time, and Dinah told her so.

“I had the time of my liiiife,” she sang as they left the theater, hand in hand. “And I owe it all to yoooouuuu,” she poked Helena in the arm. 

“Ouch! Glad you liked it, though.”

“Did you like it? Come on, what'd you think?”

“It was good. I liked Johnny's outfits, and the lift at the end. I see why you love it so much.”

“Oh you liked the muscle tees and leather jackets? Shocking,” Dinah laughed. 

At home, they drank cocktails out of their new matching goblets and sat on the couch talking. “That really was the best date I've ever been on. You planned the perfect day,” said Dinah, curling herself into Helena's space.

“Glad I could impress. Do it again some time?” she asked.

“The sooner the better,” Dinah said, leaning in for a kiss. There wasn't much drinking after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Fiona Apple's "Paper Bag." Thanks for everyone's nice comments, which encouraged me to keep this one going. I appreciate it!


	6. In Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang finds out.

Helena popped the baking dish in the oven, closed it and removed her mitt. She was making an enormous casserole dish of baked ziti, with bubbling mozzarella and fresh basil on top. The whole gang was coming over to celebrate Cass getting a first semester B- in her math class after weeks of help from Helena. She was pretty pleased with herself for helping the girl get her grade up. She thought of herself as the perpetual pupil, always under the tutelage of her uncles, but it was nice to know that she could both understand American high school math and teach Cass enough to bring her grade up several letters. Dinah was proud, too, and Helena still felt the ghost of the other woman's smile buried into her shoulder when Cass called to tell them. They'd been official for a few weeks then, and while everyone probably suspected their relationship, they'd decided to not hold back on being couply that night. It was finally time to out their relationship. Helena got a thrill from the idea that people would know she belonged to Dinah, that they were a matched set. She never thought she'd even have friends here in Gotham, but to have a few and a girlfriend? It felt like she was walking among the angels sometimes, she couldn't believe how blessed she was. Sure, her job was kicking ass and sometimes she walked around with bruised ribs and split knuckles but Dinah was there to lay healing kisses on her wounds and they both patched the other up after a bad fight. But they enjoyed it. They didn't have to do it, they liked doing it. So in that way, Helena thought her life was pretty perfect.

“How's it coming?” Dinah asked, coming into the kitchen. She crept up behind Helena where she stood chopping basil into strips, wound her arms around the taller woman and squeezed, burying her head between her girlfriend's shoulder blades. 

“Good. The ziti will take probably over a half an hour so we have time for everyone to trickle in.”

“Nice. I can't wait to see everyone. Are you sure you're fine if I happen to give you a big kiss in the middle of dinner? Can't say I will, I just want to make sure you're fine with it,” Dinah asked, standing next to Helena now and grinning her coy little grin.

“I told you, I'm fine with it. Maybe I'll beat you to it,” said Helena with a grin of her own. Dinah leaned in and Helena offered her cheek for a kiss. With the smack of Dinah's lips came a knock at the door.

“Got it!” Dinah rushed to the door and swept it open to find Renee, with a trademark bottle of whiskey in her hands, thankfully unopened this time. She thrust it at Dinah.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks, Renee. Come in.” The older woman came inside and took her coat off, handing it to Dinah who spirited it away to throw on her mostly now-unused bed. 

“Smells good, killer,” said Renee, nose lifting to take in the smell of garlic in the air. She loved Helena's cooking. If it wasn't so good, she would come over less. She'd never tell her that, though.

Dinah returned, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the table, three glasses from the cabinet and poured them all a finger of the liquor. She distributed the glasses between them, then held hers up. “Cheers?” They clinked the glasses together and downed the drink.

Renee grabbed the bottle and began to refill the glasses. “We forgot to drink to something.”

“Renee, I'm good. I'm cooking,” said Helena.

“We forgot to drink to something and besides, you're almost done. I know how baked ziti works. It's baking. Drink.” 

Helena shot a look at Dinah but grabbed her glass from Renee anyway. “Fine. What are we drinking to?”

“To friendship, and more,” said Renee, shooting them both a very suspicious look. They clinked glasses once more and downed the second shot. Dinah was feeling the affects now. 

“OK, no more until later,” she said. They made small talk for a bit, Helena pausing here and there to check on her pasta. Finally, a characteristic fifteen minutes late, Harley and Cassandra showed up.

“Here's the man of the hour!” Renee greeted Cassandra. She'd helped herself to two more shots while they were talking. She gave the girl an awkward but loving side hug that neither seemed to enjoy. 

“Aren't we so proud? Aren't we just?” said Harley, pinching Cass's cheeks and earning a slap on the arm. “Let's celebrate,” she said. She had clearly spied the bottle of booze on the counter and went to retrieve two more glasses and a canned soda from the fridge for Cass. 

With full glasses once more, they made a whiskey (and Coke) toast, this time drinking in Cass's honor.

“I really am so proud of you,” said Helena, the drink coloring her cheeks, although maybe only Dinah, who spent a lot of time staring at said face, noticed. “We worked so hard. You worked so hard.” Dinah could've sworn the woman was tearing up and scooted closer to wind an arm around her waist and give an affirming squeeze. She knew Helena would probably rather have all of her fingernails removed than let the crew see her crying.

“Thanks, H,” said Cass with an uncharacteristic shy smile. 

“Oh, coats!” said Dinah, breaking the awkward silence they'd sunk into. “I'm such a bad hostess,” she said, grabbing Cass and Harley's coats. Helena followed her as she whisked them away to her bedroom.

“You OK, babe?” asked Dinah.

“Yeah, just got a little worked up over Cassandra passing her class. I'm so proud,” she said, removing a few tears from her eyes before they had the chance to fall. 

“I know, baby. Perfectly natural to feel that way.” 

“I just needed a second,” Helena explained. Dinah wound her arms around her girlfriend's neck and hauled her in for a kiss. She really was so sweet. She wished Helena would let everyone else see how sweet she was.

“Gross,” they heard from the doorway. There stood Cassandra. “Everyone's going to see.”

“So what?” Dinah asked the girl, who remained the only one who knew about them since their scandal in the Gotham High parking lot at her school dance.

“Just saying,” said the girl, passing them up to grab her phone from her coat. “Forgot this,” she said on her way out. The two women followed her out. 

In the kitchen, Harley and Renee sat talking over the sound of Helena's kitchen alarm. “Shit!” she said. “Sorry I forgot this.” She put the kitchen mitts on and removed her bubbling dish from the oven.

“Holy shit,” said Renee. “That looks amazing.” Next to her, Harley was nodding.

“They should call you Cookstress instead of Huntress,” said Harley.

“That's the corniest shit I've ever heard,” said Dinah. “She's Huntress. And she can cook. That's all.” Harley shrugged.

They shared a delicious dinner, full of wine and pasta and bread. By the end, they were all stuffed and, other than Cass, a little drunk. Helena headed to the kitchen to clean and Dinah went after her, swaying a bit on her feet. The others went into the living room.

Dinah's face was hot with booze in her veins and she missed Helena. She'd been in chef mode most of the afternoon and she missed the cuddles and kisses they exchanged all day, still very much in their honeymoon phase.

“That was delicious, babe,” said Dinah. Helena stood at the sink, preparing to wash the dishes. Dinah came up behind her again and wrapped her arms around her waist. Helena turned in her arms, wrapping hers around Dinah's waist in turn. “Hey.”

“Hey back,” said Helena, leaning down for a kiss. They stood like that for a moment, lost in each other.

“Holy shit,” they heard from the door. “Canary and Crossbow are doing it?” They wrenched apart to find Harley in the doorway. Renee and Cass came up behind her.

“You didn't know?” said Renee.

“You did know?” Dinah asked Renee. She shrugged and nodded as if it would be unbelievable for her not to know.

“I'm a fucking detective. Plus once Killer showed up to train with lipstick on her neck. Dinah's shade,” said Renee. 

Helena flushed and buried her head in Dinah's shoulder. “Kill me now,” she murmured. She had no idea they'd been so obvious.

“How'd I miss this? Cass, did you know?” Harley whirls around to confront the girl, who nods.

“They made out at my school dance,” said Cassandra, with a disgusted little shiver. 

“You guys made out at her school? Get it together!” said Harley. “I thought you were supposed to be the squeaky clean parents she needs, not teenage hump-crazed sex addicts. Come on!”

“Sorry, sorry!” said Dinah, holding off a laugh. “I couldn't help myself.”

“This is so embarrassing,” said Helena into Dinah's shoulder. Dinah reached around her and squeezed, giving a laughing kiss to her forehead.

“Go away, you're making my girlfriend nervous,” said Dinah, waving them all out of the kitchen.

“I still don't know how I missed this,” said Harley as they left.

“You good?” Dinah asked Helena.

“Yeah, that was just a lot more embarrassing than I thought it would be, having it all out in the open like that. I realized how much I'd liked our little secret.”

“You don't want to take it back, do you?” Dinah asked, her smile faltering a bit.

“No! I'm not ashamed or anything. They just seem to have a way of making things sound scandalous. We really shouldn't have made out at Cass's school, right? How dumb was that?” 

Dinah's laughing smirk returned. “Babe, it wasn't a big deal. You can forgive yourself for that one. I'll take the blame.” Helena gave a bashful nod and Dinah pressed a kiss to her forehead again.

“Bring the whiskey when you're done making out!” Renee called from the living room. Dinah laughed at Helena's scowl, grabbed the whiskey and led her girlfriend by the hand into the next room.

Like most nights when Renee and Harley got absolutely sloshed at their place, the whole gang stayed over. This time, Dinah could offer her bed to Renee, who for once didn't have to sleep in the recliner, and she drunkenly enthused her thanks for that. Cass and Harley spread out on the pull-out couch yet again and Dinah followed Helena into her room, where she had stayed most every night for the past few weeks. 

“How do you feel now that our secret is out?” Dinah asked over the sound of “Dirty Dancing” in the background. Since the cat was out of the bag that it was her favorite movie, they had watched it several times. It was their current fall-back movie.

“I feel fine. Great, actually. I thought I was fine with just Cass knowing but seeing that we slipped it by Harley was definitely gratifying,” Helena smiled.

Dinah laughed again. “Yeah, that was a shocker. I thought the hickey I gave you before our last dinner would've done it.”

“We haven't been subtle, have we?” Helena laughed. 

“No. Didn't seem to make a difference to Harley's airy head, though,” Dinah said with a certain fondness. Helena snuck a kiss onto her lips, and Dinah let her deepen it. “Is the door locked?”

“Yep,” said Helena with a grin.

“Good,” said Dinah, returning her lips to their favorite place, on Helena's.

A week later and it was date night. They had gone on a few dates since their initial “Dirty Dancing” date, and had settled into a groove of alternating who made the plans each time. That night was Dinah's turn. Usually there wasn't much variation, just some version of dinner and a movie. Dinah had scored tickets to a jazz concert that night, though, with drinks at a fancy bar beforehand, and was planning on making Helena dress up a bit.

“Babe, you ready?” She knocked on Helena's door.

“Just a second!” she called back, and Dinah heard a thud. Shaking her head with a smile, Dinah just waited. “OK,” Helena said when she opened the door a moment later. “I'm good.” She was wearing a burgundy suit, her shirt open at the collar to show off the St. Christopher pendant Dinah had bought her. 

“Looking good,” Dinah said, blushing. 

Helena gave a bashful smile, took in Dinah's own dress, her bangled arms. “Not bad yourself. Ready to go?” She offered her arm to Dinah.

They drove in Dinah's sports car to dinner at one of their favorite sushi restaurants. Dinah always made fun of Helena's pickiness at the sushi restaurant; she feared she only ate there because she knew Dinah liked it, though Helena would swear that wasn't true. Sometimes letting yourself be loved is an act of love in itself, so Dinah let Helena have her sushi heroism, and let herself enjoy being loved like that. Or appreciated, anyway. They had yet to drop the L-word, but Dinah knew all too well just how much Helena appreciated her.

After sushi, they headed downtown to Bar Angelo, a fancy cocktail lounge with a downstairs speakeasy where they would attend the jazz concert. It was newly opened and neither woman had been there yet. The bar was nice, with plush leather stools and a cool granite and glass look to the bar itself. There were neon signs that said “Bar Angelo” on marble walls, and wall sculptures that looked like taxidermied animal heads. Overall a very cool vibe, Dinah thought. Helena ordered them both gin and tonics, and they posted up at a hightop in the corner.

“I like this place,” Helena said. Dinah appreciated the way the pink of the neon glinted off of Helena's dark curls. It was a wonder she ever took her eyes off of her.

“I like you,” said Dinah. Helena blushed her characteristic red like Dinah knew she would. It was half the reason she ever said these things to begin with.

“I like you too,” she said back, so quietly that Dinah barely caught it. Her eyes were fixed on Dinah's, full of meaning. She wanted to press her cheek to the cool marble wall to chill away the flush in her cheeks. “Love” had been on the tip of her tongue for weeks, maybe months now. It was only a matter of time before she let it slip; she just hoped Dinah would return it. In fact, she was almost to the point where she would be happy even if Dinah didn't say it back. It wouldn't change how she felt and she could give Dinah time as long as that's what she wanted. Love doesn't always diminish when it's not returned.

Helena noticed Dinah's eyes shift from hers to a figure just to the side of the bar. “Ollie!” she yelled. Helena didn't have to turn around to know it was Dinah's ex, Oliver Queen. Her stomach dropped to her feet.

“Dinah!” said Oliver as he made his way over. Dinah stood to greet him, giving him a proper hug and two airy kisses to his cheeks, which he returned. Helena tried to quell her rage. It was just an ex-boyfriend.

That didn't account for Oliver Queen being a huge flirt, though. He was dressed not unlike Helena, in a nice navy suit, shirt a bit open at the chest, a fabric square in his right pocket. His beard was perfectly trimmed. Did Dinah miss kissing someone with a beard? Thought Helena's irrational mind. She told it to shut up.

“Ollie, this is Helena, my girlfriend,” Dinah said, and Helena's worries flushed away. She was the girlfriend. They were girlfriends. Girls. Not Oliver. 

Oliver and Helena shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, sized up one another. “Lucky you, Helena, snagging this one. Biggest mistake of my life was letting her go,” Oliver said.

Helena wasn't sure why he would air something so personal like that, and she scanned his face, seeing it mostly sincere with a jaunty slant to his smile and a mischievous glint in his eye indicating that he might just be teasing. Still, it threw her off balance. Dinah just laughed and swatted at him, rolled her eyes. She didn't move away from his side, though, and Helena had an insane urge to crowd in closer to Dinah, to be nearer to her than he was. 

“Well, one man's mistake is another woman's gold mine,” said Helena. She said it with a bit of uncharacteristic swagger and thanked Dinah's movie lessons for making her a bit more suave with her words. She was awkward but she could channel any number of movie heroes and make it work now.

“Oh, is it?” Oliver said with a grin, like she'd just told the funniest joke in the world. Dinah was watching them with a wary smile. “I'll have to remember that next time.” Helena merely shot him a fake grin and a nod, then scowled into her drink. As Dinah and Oliver talked, still standing close together, sharing the same air, Helena drank and got angrier. Who was Oliver to come crash their date? What did he mean by “I'll have to remember that next time”? What next time? Not a next time with Dinah, she hoped. Not if she could help it. Dinah seemed to be enjoying it so she tried to tamp down her anger but it wasn't working well. She was finding herself to be a naturally jealous person. It wasn't like Dinah was her possession, of course not. But their relationship was something they had created together, and this was supposed to be their time alone and now they had to entertain this man? Why wouldn't he leave?

“Did you hear that, H? Ollie just got a new bow and arrow. He's an archer, too,” said Dinah, trying to draw her girlfriend into the conversation. 

“Well I use a crossbow, so it's a bit different. Less like a child's toy,” said Helena, a bit nastily. Dinah scowled at her and Helena, chagrined, turned back to her drink. She didn't want to upset Dinah or look like an ass in front of this man but it seemed she had done both. She decided just to finish off her drink and then head to the bar for seconds while they laughed for the millionth time over some old story from when they dated.

She returned to their table, two drinks in hand, to find Oliver whispering something to a giggling Dinah. It was all she could do to hold on to the glasses, her heart swooped in her chest. She walked slowly over to them and cleared her throat.

“Anyway, I'd better be going,” said Oliver. He and Dinah hugged yet again and he was off, finally.

“You were a bit nasty,” said Dinah. Helena was still feeling a bit like a kicked cat, jealous over all the stories she had heard of Ollie this and Ollie that, and his time with Dinah. He had taken her on motorcycle rides. He shot a bow and arrow. He wore leather. Dinah had a type. Helena felt a bit like a Russian nesting doll, just the same in a long line of the same, one identical paramour after another. 

“You seem to have a type,” Helena said, frowning yet again into her drink.

“Nice people? Usually. Usually they're nice. Maybe not now,” said Dinah. She had crossed her arms over her chest so Helena knew she was pissed. 

She shrugged herself, feeling her hope for the evening retreat behind all of her facades. Normally time with Dinah kept her walls down, but she felt them build right back up in the face of Oliver Queen.

“I think you're being a bit childish.”

“Maybe so,” said Helena. “I just feel like my date with you was interrupted by stories about your dates with another guy. Why couldn't you have told him to fuck off?”

“Because he's my friend,” said Dinah with finality. She picked up her own drink and took a huge slug. They sat like that, in silence, until it was time to descend the stairs to the concert in the speakeasy. 

They spent the entirety of what was a very nice concert featuring a jazz quartet with a singer in silence, at arms-length. They drove home in silence and went to bed in silence. In bed, Helena tossed and turned, feeling off about the way the night had gone down. She started to feel bad halfway through the concert, her anger dissolving as she watched Dinah sway and mouth along to the music, just wanting to take her in her arms. She didn't because of her stupid pride, and that made her decide that anything that kept Dinah away from her was stupid and petty. It didn't matter. All that mattered was them together. 

She gathered up her resolve and formulated a plan. It was still a bit early and Dinah probably had yet to drift off, especially if she was as worked up as Helena had been. Helena left her room and found the square Bluetooth speaker on the shelf near their record player. She connected her phone and found the song. Turning it up, she hoisted the speaker onto her shoulder as it played Peter Gabriel's “In Your Eyes.” It was so cheesy, Helena thought, but Dinah loved John Cusack. In “Say Anything,” he held up a boom box as it played this same song, and Dinah swooned every time. It was sure to get her out of her room at the very least.

The song played for a minute before Dinah cracked open her door.

“Dinah, I'm so sorry I acted like that tonight. I don't feel jealous of Oliver. Anything that keeps you away from me is bad, even if it's my own jealously. I'm truly sorry,” said Helena.

Dinah left her room fully, folding her arms over her chest indicating that she still felt defensive. “You didn't have to act like that. You could have at least kept this between us but now Ollie thinks you're rude, I'm sure.”

“I'll apologize to him if I have to,” said Helena, surprising even herself. The song droned on from the speaker. 

Dinah seemed to soften a bit, dropping her arms. “Come here,” she said, opening them up to Helena, who sat the speaker down and moved into her favorite place. They swayed for a moment to the song.

“I'm sorry I said you have a type,” said Helena.

“Well, you're not wrong. I like smart, loving people who want to do good in the world. That's you, too. I'm sorry Ollie has bad timing. I wish we could've enjoyed tonight more.”

“It's my fault.” They swayed a bit more. Helena didn't know the right words to express to let Dinah know she fucked up, so she just held her.

“You know, Ollie is boisterous and talkative and a lot of fun. He's also a showboat, egotistical and never remembered my birthday. You're everything he's not,” said Dinah. 

Helena was stunned into silence. She pulled a hand away from their embrace to wipe some tears away and decided she couldn't hide it any more. “I love you, Dinah. I've wanted to say it for weeks now.”

Dinah pushed her to arms-length, studied her crying face. She reached up to wipe some tears of her own off of Helena's cheek. “Helena, of course I love you too. Of course I do.” They embraced. The song ended, but they just kept standing there, loving one another.


	7. Come on baby, the laugh's on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena becomes acquainted with female friendship.

Dinah's heart sank when she opened the envelope. Miriam Riley was getting married, and she was invited. Not only that, her presence was expected at the bridal shower. It wasn't that she didn't like Miriam. They had known each other since choir class at Gotham High, and kept up online over the years. They had even had brunch a year ago. But it also wasn't as if she was Miriam's biggest fan. Miriam was a gossip who ran her clique like a mafia in high school. Dinah wasn't really even in her circle; if she had been she would have run afoul of Miriam's rules, like how nobody was allowed to wear the same color as her on any given day (all her friends kept a change of clothes in their locker), or how they all had to join Weight Watchers at the same time to count points together, even though none of them were fat. Miriam always wanted Dinah to join her group, though. Dinah suspected it was because she was black and Miriam wanted some “flavor” in the group. She called Dinah “exotic” and always wanted to touch her hair. Dinah tossed the invitation away and didn't think about it again for days, until she got a call from Rochelle, her best friend from high school.

“Dinah! I miss you so much,” Rochelle said after they caught up for a bit. “Are you going to Miriam's bridal shower?”

“I wasn't planning on it,” said Dinah. “I'm honestly not Miriam's biggest fan. I haven't spoken to her since we all had brunch last year.”

“Oh, but Di, you have to go. Everyone will be there. C'mon. I don't know how I'll get through it without you.”

Dinah sighed. Maybe she could get through just the bridal shower. “OK, but only because I miss you so much.” They made plans to go shopping for a gift together.

“Who was that?” Helena asked when she hung up.

“Rochelle, my best friend from high school.”

“Oh, a friend! The only friend of yours I've met was Ollie,” Helena said, making a disgusted face. Dinah sat on the couch next to her.

“Well the only friend of yours I've met is Renee and she's my friend too.”

“I have other friends,” said Helena.

“Gianni and Sal don't count.” Helena just pouted. Dinah laughed and kissed the pout off of her face.

“You guys are going shopping?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

“Can I come?” Helena asked.

“H, I haven't seen Ro in a year. It's not supposed to be a group hang.” Helena just pouted again, her lips pursing. “But I guess I can invite her up first so you can meet her.”

“OK!” Helena cheered. “I promise I won't embarrass you, babe.”

“You better not.”

The next day, Helena woke before the alarm. She wanted to clean up the apartment before Dinah's friend came. Dinah continued to snooze while Helena picked up their clothes from the floor, threw in a load of laundry, soaped down the bathroom counters and cleaned the mirrors, and dressed in a nice outfit. Everything was spic and span when Dinah finally tumbled out of bed, throwing on a quick outfit about 30 minutes before Rochelle was expected. 

“Babe, did you clean the whole apartment?” Dinah shuffled into the kitchen, where Helena was busy unloading the dishwasher.

“Yeah!” she yelped. “And I've had almost a pot of coffee.”

“I can tell,” Dinah said as she watched her girlfriend frantically toss dishes into the cabinets where they belonged.

Dinah stepped over to the dishwasher and grabbed the silverware basket, going to the drawer and putting the forks and spoons into their home. Then came a knock at the door. “I'll get it,” Dinah said, holding up a hand to stop the overenthusiastic Helena. She opened the door to reveal Rochelle in a winter coat, hair done up in twists.

“Dinah! Long time no see!” 

“Rochelle! Can't believe you're here,” Dinah said. They embraced. When they pulled apart, Dinah noticed Rochelle looking warily at Helena. “Oh, Ro, this is my girlfriend, Helena.”

“Girlfriend? Wow. You live together?” Rochelle asked. Dinah nodded. “What happened to Oliver?” She whispered. Helena heard and cut a scowl at the new woman.

“Oh, long gone. Helena and I have been together for about six months now.” Helena, remembering her manners, wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and walked over to shake Rochelle's hand.

“Helena Bertinelli. Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Rochelle Feeney. Any friend of Dinah's is a friend of mine.”

“Well, we're definitely friends,” said Helena.

There was a beat of awkward silence. “Should we go?” Dinah asked.

“I'm ready whenever you are,” said Rochelle. 

Dinah bounded over and gave Helena a goodbye kiss. “Bye, babe.” Helena grabbed her softly around the waist and gave her an even longer kiss.

“Bye, Dinah,” she said, releasing her. Dinah blushed, and left with Rochelle. 

“So, a girlfriend. Didn't peg you for the type,” said Rochelle. “She's pretty, though. In an intense kind of way.”

“I've always been bi,” said Dinah. “It just wasn't easy to talk about in high school.”

They made their way downtown, to the mall. Both had decided to go in on a gift, so they could get something nice and not just whatever was affordable. Dinah was thinking maybe some nice lingerie or maybe something for the kitchen. 

Dinah and Rochelle spent the whole day at the mall, shopping and eating, catching up. Dinah kept her new life of crime fighting a secret. She told Rochelle she was giving voice lessons now and that's how she made her coin. It was the same lie they fed Cassandra's guidance counselor. Dinah felt a little bad lying to Rochelle, but how would she explain that she's a superpowered vigilante to her friend who was surprised to find out she had a girlfriend just hours ago? No, best to keep the truth under wraps. Best not to overwhelm this friend she hadn't seen in a year.

“So, how did you and Helena meet?” Rochelle asked as they licked salt from their fingers after finishing off giant pretzels.

“Um, volunteering. Yeah, volunteering with kids,” lied Dinah. “We were working with this one girl named Cass. We kind of became her older sisters and now we take her out and buy her stuff. All that. And we kind of just connected.”

“Well, like I said, she seems pretty intense.”

“She's not. Well, she can be, but not with me. She's very sweet. Just this morning she woke up early so she could clean the whole apartment before you got there.”

“Wow, I wish Trent did half of that. I can barely get him to rinse the coffee pot out when he's done or flush the toilet. Lucky you.”

“Yeah, I am lucky,” Dinah smiled to herself.

“And I think you're in love.”

“You know what? Yeah, I am. It's great.”

“Well, I'm happy to see it.”

“So, have you seen Miriam since last year?” Asked Dinah, turning away from the trash can where she'd thrown her empty drink cup.

“Yeah, she had me over about four months ago. I met the fiance. He's nice enough. A little boring. He's an accountant. She's definitely got him under her thumb.”

“Sounds about right,” Dinah nodded.

“Oh, Williams Sonoma! Let's go in here,” Rochelle said, grabbing Dinah's hand and steering them inside the kitchen store.

When Dinah got home around dinner time, she opened the door to hear the shower running. Acting quickly, she dumped her bags on the couch and walked towards the bathroom, disrobing as she went. She entered the bathroom and could hear Helena in the shower, humming. She stopped for a moment just to enjoy her girlfriend's voice.

“Got room for one more?” Dinah asked. Through the curtain, she could see Helena jump.

“Jesus, Dinah! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry. Can I join you, babe?”

“Of course. You don't have to ask.” Dinah peeled back the shower curtain and stepped inside. Helena was soaping up her shoulders. Dinah took the loofah from her. 

“Turn around.” Dinah began scrubbing her back, down and down towards her ass. Helena yelped a bit when the scratchy loofah met the sensitive skin of her backside.

“I got it,” said Helena. “I can get that bit.”

“No, let me,” Dinah said, kneeling down to wash Helena's legs one by one. “Turn around,” said Dinah. Helena did, and Dinah worked the loofah back up her body. When she stood, their breasts brushed, sending a shiver through both women. 

“I missed you today,” Helena said, pushing her head forward so her nose bumped Dinah's. She put her soapy hands around Dinah's hips and pulled her in closer so their lips met. They kissed and kissed, getting steamier than the heat from the showerhead.

“Don't leave me all day again,” said Helena when they pulled away.

Dinah laughed. “Hon, I can't be around all the time. We already work together.”

“I know. I just miss you,” said Helena, looking at the floor of the shower. 

Dinah crooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to meet her gaze. “I miss you too. Every second.” She kissed her gently. Soon they moved to the bedroom, getting their sheets all wet. Neither minded that much.

Later, they lay in bed, just talking. 

“I really don't want to go to this bridal shower,” said Dinah. “Miriam was not nice in high school. I think she's just obsessed with me or something.”

“I've never been to a bridal shower. What is that?”

“It's just for the bride before a wedding. She gets gifts and the guests play wedding themed games and eat finger sandwiches.”

“Sandwich... fingers?”

“Yeah, small sandwiches. Like you can eat with your fingers?”

“Oh... kay,” said Helena, but Dinah could tell she was still confused.

“It's all boring, to be honest.”

“Can I go with you?” Helena asked sweetly.

“Oh, baby. I'd love for you to come but that isn't how bridal showers work. Invite only.”

“But you're going to need someone if this Miriam is mean to you.”

“There's nothing Miriam can say I can't handle,” said Dinah. “Don't worry about me.”

“But I do worry about you. It's my job.”

Dinah pressed a kiss to Helena's jaw. “That's very sweet of you, babe. But I can handle myself. You know that.”

“You can kick really high and throw a mean punch. Maybe you're right,” Helena said with a teasing smile. Dinah kissed the smile off her face.

Over the next few days, though, Dinah let slip a few stories about Miriam. About the time she wouldn't talk to Dinah for a whole day because they both wore blue to school. About how Miriam would always slip weight loss pamphlets into her locker. About how Miriam liked to touch her hair and call it “wild.” Needless to say, after a day or two, Helena found herself strongly disliking Miriam. She wanted to protect Dinah from this monster.

“Why are you going to this thing again?” She asked Dinah over dinner one night.

“Because Rochelle wants me to, mostly. She's still friends with Miriam. Besides, she's harmless. I don't sweat Miriam.”

Helena still didn't buy it. So she made a plan. She snuck the invitation out of the trash and found the address of the shower. She was going to stake it out.

The day of the shower came and Dinah spent all morning getting spiffy. She looked so beautiful, Helena wanted to kiss her but Dinah would only allow cheek kisses so as not to mess up her lipstick. Helena didn't care about lipstick being all over her face from Dinah's kisses, but she understood and instead gave a dutiful peck to Dinah's cheek. Rochelle showed up soon after that.

“Hi, Helena,” Rochelle said when the door opened.

“Hey, Rochelle,” said Helena. “Dinah's putting on her shoes.”

“Ah,” said Rochelle, and they stood in an awkward silence for a minute.

“So, Miriam sounds like a monster,” Helena said, finally, to break the silence.

“Excuse me?” Rochelle said with a disbelieving smile.

“Miriam seems awful, from what I've heard.”

“Well, she and Dinah didn't always get along,” said Rochelle.

“Sounds like a lot more than that, to me.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” said Rochelle. Dinah finally emerged from the bedroom.

“Ro! Ready to go?” She asked. Rochelle nodded and turned towards the door. “Bye, babe,” said Dinah, leaning up to give Helena a peck on the cheek. 

“Bye, Dinah. I'll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, soonish.”

The minute Dinah and Rochelle left, Helena darted into her room to throw on some black clothes (the better for a stake-out). She locked up their apartment and got on her bike, heading towards the shower venue.

She arrived outside the Spring Street Lofts, where the shower was to take place, and found a nice spot across the street where she could keep an eye on the door. Dinah and Rochelle were seemingly already inside, but Helena watched a few women straggle in, carrying elaborately tissued bags and giant wrapped presents, their brand name purses on their shoulders. Helena didn't see what any of them would have in common with Dinah.

Inside the party, Dinah was sipping a small glass of punch and making small talk with Rochelle, waiting for Miriam to make her rounds and come talk to them. She turned to look out the window as Rochelle went on about her husband's new job. Something familiar across the street struck her eye. A bike that she recognized. A black figure next to it. Helena.

“Rochelle, would you excuse me?” Dinah asked, setting down her punch. At that moment, Miriam made her way over to the pair. 

“Ladies! It's so good to see you!” Miriam said. Dinah paused and gave her an air kiss in the general vicinity of her cheek.

“Miriam! Good to see you, too. Now, will you excuse me? I think I left something in the car.”

Miriam looked shocked but gave a small nod, joining Rochelle by the window.

Dinah hustled her way down the stairs and finally across the street to Helena. She watched as the other woman recognized her, then put her helmet on as if that was going to save her ass.

“Helena!” Dinah yelped as she approached her girlfriend. “What are you doing here?”

Helena looked around as if Dinah could possibly be talking to someone else.

“Take that fucking helmet off, I know it's you,” Dinah seethed. Helena complied, lifting the black helmet from her head and shaking her hair loose. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you. I just wanted to keep an eye out.” 

“What did you think was going to happen? The Joker's gonna crash the bridal shower of some chick he doesn't know?”

“...Maybe.”

“Helena, this is wrong. You shouldn't be here. I can handle myself.”

“I know that, Dinah. I just worry. Your stories about that woman are so awful. I guess I just thought, if you left upset, I'd want to be there for you as soon as possible. I don't know. I couldn't stay away.”

“Well, we'll talk about this when I get home. For now, leave. I don't know what to do with you.” Helena moved to put her helmet back on her head when she noticed a figure crossing the street and heading right towards them.

“Who's that?” She asked Dinah, indicating the person rapidly approaching them.

“Fuck. It's Miriam,” Dinah whispered, then turned around. “Miriam! What's up?”

“Who's this, Dinah? I thought you had to get something out of your car,” Miriam said, the contempt barely disguised in her voice.

“Yeah, well. This is Helena, my girlfriend.”

“Oh, well any friend of Dinah's is a friend of mine,” Miriam said, extending a hand for Helena to shake. Helena looked at it with disgust and didn't extend her own hand. “OK then,” Miriam said, retracting the proffered hand. 

“Well, this is my _girl_ friend, Miriam. We live together,” Dinah said.

“Oh. Oh! Well then,” said Miriam. “Never pegged you for the type, Dinah.”

Dinah looked at Helena and rolled her eyes, allies once more, for just a second of shared misery.

“What type is that, Miriam?”

“Always full of surprises, aren't you Dinah? Well, why don't we invite Helen inside?” Miriam said.

“No, it's Helena and she's just going--” Dinah began to say.

Helena interrupted, “That'd be lovely, thank you Miriam.”

“Of course,” Miriam said, giving Helena a snooty once-over. She turned on her expensive heel and headed back inside, expecting both women to follow. And they did, Dinah cutting a scowl at Helena as they went.

Upstairs, they rejoined a confused looking Rochelle. “Helena...?” she said when she saw the black-clad figure approach.

“Yeah, Helena,” said Dinah with a sigh.

Miriam stood with them, an older woman stopping by to hand her a glass of wine. “So, Helen. What do you do?”

“It's Helena, actually. And I'm an interpreter,” said Helena.

“Oh, sorry. Helena. What is it that you interpret?” 

“News stories and books. I speak seven languages.”

“Seven? Wow. Dinah, what a catch,” Miriam said, with a sharp smile aimed at the woman.

“Yeah, you'd think,” Dinah said. She was glad to have Helena here, deep down, but she had to be mad. She couldn't set a precedent of Helena following her everywhere, when expressly told not to. Then again, she didn't want Miriam to pick up on anything rocky in their relationship. She would notice, and she would comment on it, and Dinah wanted to avoid that. She felt fingers prying at her closed fist, opened up her hand to let Helena take and squeeze it in apology. She gave the woman a small smile. “Yeah, I'm pretty lucky,” said Dinah.

Miriam just hummed and sipped her wine. An older woman – Dinah assumed it was Miriam's mother – clinked a knife on her wine glass, calling everyone's attention.

“Ladies! Please! Let's start the games!”

Dinah followed Rochelle to a nearby table, dragging Helena by the hand. They sat down to find a piece of paper at each seat. A quiz, about Miriam and her fiance's life. Whoever knew her best would get a prize. Dinah rolled her eyes. So narcissistic. She looked to her right to see Helena hard at work. 

Helena didn't really know what this quiz was about – who knew bridal showers were like school? Dinah never mentioned that – but she was happy enough to fill it out. “What's Miriam's favorite meal?” Why, the souls of babies, Helena wrote. “What's Dave's job?” Butt-sucker, Helena carefully penned.

Dinah, seeing her answers, elbowed Helena in the side, grabbing the paper and folding it up so nobody could see it. “Hey!” whispered Helena as Dinah ripped the paper from her grasp.

“Stop it!” Dinah whispered back. “Play along.”

Helena fidgeted, sat on her hands for a bit. Meanwhile, the old lady droned on. “Fill out the sheets at your table to see who knows Miriam and Dave best. Next we're going to get into teams and take these stacks of newspaper and Scotch tape to see who can make the best newspaper wedding dress!” 

Helena groaned softly – well, she thought it was softly, until Miriam's mother shot her a scowl. “Sorry,” Helena mouthed. Stacks of newspaper and some tape were dropped off at their table. 

“I guess we're a team,” Rochelle said. “Who wants to be the model?”

“Helena will be the model,” Dinah said, knowing Helena would absolutely hate it. Serves her right.

Helena just grumbled a bit, but stood and stuck her arms out so they could start taping sheets of newspaper to her clothing in a poor facsimile of a wedding dress. Dinah carefully folded the paper to make ruching, taping it to Helena's waist to make it appear cinched in. Rochelle was busy making a paper bouquet for Helena to carry. They worked fast, fingers getting black with newsprint, Helena's arms growing tired as she held them out.

“Time's up!” Miriam's mother finally called. Helena dropped her arms with a pleased sigh. “Let's see our lovely models up front.”

Helena shuffled awkwardly to the front, looking like a newly born giraffe in a, well, in a newspaper dress.

“Ladies, please walk in a circle around the tables so we can see those gorgeous dresses!” Helena followed the other girls as the promenaded around the tables. She was noticeably more awkward than the other women, having not worn a dress in about 20 years. “Miriam will decide the winner. Miriam?”

“The winner is... Phylicia's team!” From Helena's left, Phylicia cheered. Helena, however, threw her bouquet on the ground and stalked back to Dinah and Rochelle.

“Help me get this shit off,” said Helena. “Can't believe we didn't win. Fucking Miriam,” she said under her breath. Rochelle gave a surprised little laugh, and Dinah smacked Helena's arm. 

“H! Shut up!” Dinah said as she and Rochelle worked to carefully pull the paper and tape off of Helena's frame. They sat down and watched as Phylicia and team collected their prizes – little cellophane wrapped packages of soaps and lotions. 

The other women disrobed of their newspaper dresses, tossing paper into the garbage, while Miriam's mother laid out the rules of the next game. A woman came by and set new pieces of paper and a pencil in front of each woman. “Next we're playing Find the Guest! It's just a quick way to get to know everyone. Whoever finishes first will get a prize.” Helena examined the paper in front of her. “Find a guest who's been to Europe,” “find a guest wearing blue shoes,” “find a guest who speaks a foreign language,” etc. Dinah and Rochelle stood with their lists, making their way to another small group of women. Helena followed closely.

“Hi, ladies,” said Dinah. “Couldn't help but notice you're wearing blue shoes,” she said to one woman with a pair of blue leather moccasins on. “What's your name?”

“Jane,” said the woman, and Dinah wrote her name on the paper. “Do any of you speak a foreign language?” Asked Jane.

“I do,” said Helena. “Seven of them.”

“Well, I'll write your name down seven times, then,” Jane joked. It got a genuine smile from Helena. “So what is it?” Jane asked, pencil poised over her paper.

“Oh, Helena. H-E-L-E-N-A.” Jane wrote it down while Helena penned “Jane” under “find a guest wearing blue shoes.”

The three thanked Jane and her friends, then moved to the next group. They worked slow but methodically around the room, meeting a few new women, before someone yelled, “Done!”

“Oh! We have a winner!” Cried Miriam's mom. She gave a prize to the woman who had yelled.

They continued playing games – a game of wedding charades, another where they guessed where specific photos of the couple had been taken. At one point, Helena got up and filled a plate with finger sandwiches, finally grasping what exactly they were. 

“OK, last game!” Yelled Miriam's mother from the front. “This one's called Cold Feet.” Two women were working to lay out buckets filled with ice water. Miriam's mother went behind them, dropping a handful of plastic rings into each bucket. “Players will use their toes to dig through this bucket of ice water and pull out as many rings as possible. Can we get one person from each team?”

“Helena, you should do this one. You have freakishly long toes,” said Dinah. 

Helena nodded, agreeing. “You're right. I do. Let's fucking win.” She got up and went to the front, plopping down in a chair behind a bucket, taking off her shoes and socks and setting them to the side.

“On the count of three, you can begin,” said the mother. “1... 2... 3!”

Helena plunged her feet into the icy water, yelping as she did. One woman to her right screamed softly as her feet met the water. Immediately, Helena began swimming her feet through the water, dodging ice cubes to find the rings. She found one, grasped it with her toes and pulled it out, then plunged her feet right back in. When the 90 seconds were up, she'd collected eight rings. Miriam's mom went around, counting them. “What's your name, dear?” She asked when she came around to Helena.

“Helena, ma'am.”

“Our winner is... Helena!” Miriam's mom said, holding Helena's arm loosely in the air. Helena whooped, making Dinah bury her head in her hands. Miriam's mother handed Helena a gift bag, and Helena immediately ripped the tissue paper out to find a Yankee Candle. Fuck yes, she loved candles.

“Dinah! It's a candle!” She said, sitting back down next to her girlfriend. 

“That's great, babe,” Dinah said quietly, hoping Helena would take the cue to be quiet.

Soon, Miriam's mother called their attention back to the front, to watch Miriam open her gifts. Helena gorged herself on some more sandwiches and a piece of cake. She'd had about four cups of sherbet punch and was feeling appropriately sugared up. Her leg bounced beneath the table and Dinah put her hand on it to stop its jiggling. Miriam came to Dinah and Rochelle's gift, a new air fryer. “Thank you, ladies! I don't eat fried food much but I'm sure this will come in handy.”

“You see, it's healthier than fried food,” Rochelle said. Miriam just nodded and set the gift aside. “OK then,” Rochelle said under her breath. She turned to Dinah. “Should've known she'd be weird about something meant to prepare food.”

“Yeah, she's still got issues,” Dinah whispered back. Once Miriam had finished opening up her gifts, they all milled around, catching up and talking.

“Can we go soon?” Helena asked Dinah, who nodded.

“Five more minutes,” she said. Miriam chose that moment to come over and speak with them. 

“Good work winning like that, Helen!” She said as she approached. “Hope you like the candle.”

“It's Helena, and I'm sure I will. Thank you.”

“Dinah, your hair looks amazing. Has it gotten longer since last time I saw you?” Miriam reached a hand out to touch it, but Dinah ducked her head just in time to avoid her searching fingers. 

“I don't know, Miriam. I haven't cut it recently,” said Dinah, dodging another swipe of Miriam's hand.

“Can I touch it?” Miriam finally asked, hand hovering.

“No, you're not supposed to do that,” said Helena. Rochelle gave a shocked giggle from her side.

“Well, Dinah can tell me if that's the case,” said Miriam.

“She clearly doesn't want you touching her hair. How much does she have to dodge your stupid hand before you get that?” Helena asked.

“Helena, I got this,” Dinah said, laying a hand on her girlfriend's arm. “It's not really for touching, Miriam. Thanks for the interest, though.”

“I see,” said Miriam. They all sat in awkward silence for a moment. “I'm on a new cabbage soup diet, Dinah. Have you ever heard of it?”

“No, can't say as I have. Not a big fan of cabbage.”

“Dinah's perfect. She doesn't need to diet,” Helena said. Rochelle laughed again, shocked at Helena's outspoken nature. Miriam looked infuriated.

“It's OK, H. Miriam's always finding some new diet, right Miriam?”

“Well, maybe...” Miriam trailed off.

“She doesn't have to make it sound like you also need to be on a diet,” said Helena. “It's rude.”

“It's OK,” said Dinah. “Anyway, enjoy your air fryer, Miriam. We're going to head out.” Dinah pressed another almost kiss to the air left of Miriam's cheek. She turned to Rochelle. “Ro, call me. Don't be a stranger.”

“Yeah, we'll all have to have dinner at yours some night. I'd love to get to know Helena better,” said Rochelle. Miriam had strayed away towards another group.

In the parking lot, Helena straddled her bike and watched as Dinah opened the door to her convertible. 

“See you at home!” She said.

“See you. And Helena?” Dinah said.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming. Honestly. It was fun to have you.” Dinah wasn't sure if she was condoning bad behavior just because she'd loved hearing Helena hand Miriam her ass, but she didn't care. Helena could follow her anywhere and she would always be happy to see her.

On the drive home, Helena thought about what it would be like to have a bridal shower for her and Dinah. What it would be like to marry Dinah. The thought made her knees feel like jelly where they gripped the sides of her bike. Dinah in a dress. Dinah wearing her ring. Both of them partying and celebrating their love with their friends (minus Miriam). It felt like more than a dream. Some day, she would make it a reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Lucy Dacus's cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark"


End file.
